


Arrête de Parler

by Yilena



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fantasy, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 18:38:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13487364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: Marinette pursues a casual relationship with a regular at her work, not expecting for anything more than for their lustful desires to be filled, let alone for their friends to be rooting for them to date each other. AU.





	Arrête de Parler

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaijSpellhart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaijSpellhart/gifts).



> For _Saij Spellhart_. Happy birthday, Saij! You've been such a great friend since we met, and I enjoy talking to you daily. It's been wonderful getting to know you, even though you have weird taste in Pokémon. Fair warning here: this story has 500% more sex than any of my other stories since Saij requested my take on Adrien being a incubus, as she liked how I handled the supernatural aspects I've done in the past. Thank you so so much for betaing this, _powerdragonmoon_. Teasers for upcoming stories can be found on my tumblr ( _xiueryn_ ).

_Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

Marinette smoothed out her loose dark-coloured hair from her braids in the bathroom, splashing some water on her face as she took in a deep breath.

It was a nerve-wracking evening, mostly due to the unfamiliar environment, but she'd been recommended for it, and that was what she kept in mind as she walked out of the bathroom designated for employees, bypassing the kissing couple that were keeping to themselves in the hallway.

Going from working at a rundown jazz club, that hadn't been too busy, to her first evening at a popular nightclub was completely different. Marinette's old boss had recommended her for the promotion—in a way—and to work for their friend, who was the owner of the nightclub, as she was considered the best bartender at the previous establishment, and that talent would've been lost when it had closed down. So, she'd found herself dressed in tight-fitting clothes—black, as specified—and told to tend to one half of the bar while her co-worker handled the other, and it hadn't sounded as daunting as it really was.

The music was loud, and she could feel the bass on the floor. The customers tried to be louder, screaming their orders and waving money around when they were intoxicated, and Marinette had had to cut three individuals off already due to their inebriated state, and call one of the members of staff to come and remove them from the club. It was a stark difference to the club where there would be sultry music playing over the speakers, and a maximum of ten customers on a rare good day.

After the first night, she found out that it was to test her perseverance. It was a way for her current boss to suss out those that weren't fit to work for them, since they cracked under the pressure of having to manage half of the customers by themselves. Somehow, Marinette had passed since she'd only used her break to cool down in the bathroom, and hadn't vented her frustrations to her co-workers and attempted to pawn off the work.

It was standard practice to have at least two bartenders at the bar during the week, and on the designated rush days, where countless customers came through the doors, there were usually four or more. It was a nice system, and she settled into it quickly with the odd hours.

Marinette worked at her parents' pâtisserie in the mornings, and arrived at the club in the evening after a much needed nap. It was a strange schedule, but the money that she was making was more than worth it, especially as she was still able to help out her parent's without making it so they had to hire a new employee instead of her.

It was after two weeks of working at the nightclub that she started to grow comfortable with the her surroundings, despite the loud and demanding music, and she could recognise which customers to make wait as their cheeks were already flushed, and having to call security was a pain.

“Hey,” Marinette greeted her co-worker that was assigned beside her, as she shook a concoction in a cocktail shaker. “What are you looking at?”

Lila's lips curled into a grin as she leaned her elbows onto the bar. “Our regular's returned.”

Marinette blinked. “Aren't a lot of these people regulars?” She was already starting to recognise a few faces, after all.

“Oh, not like this.” Lila shook her head, causing the brown-coloured strands to fly around with the movement—she was blatantly ignoring the rule to have her hair tied back, though, perhaps, that was due to working there for an extended period of time. “You'll see him come to the bar soon. Probably to you, since I tease him too much.”

She narrowed her blue eyes dubiously. “That explanation won't help me identify him at all.”

“You're in for a treat.” Lila's smile widened as she continued to stare into the crowd, ignoring the waving hands that were attempted to capture her attention. “If you go into the break-room before me, mention that Blondie's back, won't you?”

With that description, she never really found out if she served him or not. Marinette started to hand out the drinks dutifully, not dropping a bottle like she heard on the other end of the bar. It was only when she looked at her watch and realised that she was due a break that she untied the half-apron around her waist, folding it up to hopefully signify that customers shouldn't try and maul her in the hallways for a drink.

When she mentioned Blondie in the break-room, she was kindly informed about the mystery. Apparently, it was a male that appeared every few weeks who looked terribly out of place as he ordered, never quite sure what to get, and proceeded to capture terrible dates for himself that amused the members of staff immensely. She didn't know whether to feel sorry for him or not, especially from remembering Lila's amused gaze as she'd spotted him in the crowd.

It was only when she was taking the garbage outside that she heard sniffling.

Marinette sucked in a breath, unsure whether to wander back inside or not. Sometimes, patrons thought it was a good idea to have sexual relations in the alleyway—that never seemed sanitary—and on the odd occasion at the jazz club, she found drunkards crying beside the garbage cans, because they were convinced that was where they belonged.

As she hadn't been briefed on what to do if she heard people lurking by the doors, she wiped her hands on her tight jeans before approaching the nose. They weren't by the garbage, thankfully, and it was a few metres down that she found a male wiping his face as he leaned against the wall.

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked, standing there awkwardly as she tried to figure out whether he was intoxicated.

He breathed in audibly, hands falling away from his face as his gaze flickered to her. She noticed the red-rimmed eyes in the dim lighting, the wetness that was there on his cheeks, and he parted his lips to say, “I just got called a creep.”

Well, he didn't sound drunk. “Sorry to hear that?” she offered, uncertain.

He blinked rapidly, as though fighting back more tears. “I only did what she asked.”

Marinette shifted her feet. “It could've just been bad luck. You don't look like a creep to me, sir.” The title had been a nervous tick from speaking to the older patrons at her old club, one she resorted to when the music was too loud and she was unsure of how to communicate properly with a customer. “Do you want a tissue?”

“Do you have any?” he questioned, blinking owlishly.

After she'd pulled a tissue out of the packet she kept in her pocket—that was mostly there to wipe her hands if she ever spilled a drink—that she realised that he had blond hair. Rather than starting a conversation, he hastily wiped his eyes before thanking her, and then turned away. She could hear him blowing his nose as he turned the corner and departed.

When she went back into the club, washed her hands and offhandedly commented to her co-worker that she'd ran into someone crying out back, she was asked in return, “Did he have blond hair?”

It seemed that most of the member of staff knew him. That was confirmed the following weekend when it wasn't Lila tending the bar beside her, but someone else, and they similarly pointed him out in the group, referring to him as Blondie. It was a terribly generic nickname, but one that suited him.

As predicted, he approached Marinette for a drink. And as she'd been told, he hesitated for a while, uncertain as he looked over the laminated menus that they kept on the bar, and it was only when he'd pointed to a random name on the paper that he made his decision. Marinette raised her eyebrows in a silent way of asking whether he was sure, and when she saw him swallow the shot in one gulp, and then proceed to cough a lot from the burn, her lips tugged into a smile.

“Not a big fan of alcohol?” she questioned.

Blondie's cheeks were tinged red from his coughing, and he looked embarrassed as he placed the glass back onto the bar. She noticed that his bangs were brushed out of his eyes, the length of it touching the tops of his ears in what was a stylish way.

He shrugged, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “It's okay, I guess. I'm not really fond of it, but my friend suggested that it would help me unwind.”

“You can always order for taste, rather than the alcoholic content,” she replied, wiping the counter down with ease. “What's your favourite flavour?”

Blinking, the blond-haired male replied, “I don't know?”

“Okay.” Marinette shrugged, tucking the cloth away as she reached for her equipment. “Any allergies I need to know of?”

At the shake of his head, Marinette made one of the cocktails that one of her old regulars enjoyed. She presented the brightly-coloured drink, that wasn't too alcoholic, in a glass to him with a pleasant smile, opting not to put in the various mixed fruit that she'd always done before.

He raised his eyebrows at it, clearly uncertain. “How much—”

Marinette cut him off by pushing the glass closer. “It's on me, okay? I feel bad about last week, anyway.”

And that was how their odd friendship started. The following weekend, he introduced himself at the bar as Adrien, and asked her to recommend a drink, rather than pointing to a random one. It was a hit once more, and she grinned smugly when he enjoyed it. Rather than leaving and disappearing into the crowd, he stayed by the edge of the bar, talking to her for a bit while she tended to other customers. The conversation wasn't too forced; neither of them were drunk, and they didn't seem to have clashing personalities, so she openly replied to the questions that he was asking about her life.

He was intrigued by her previous workplace, and when Marinette told him the location of where it had been—as it was surely in the process of being taken apart—his eyes widened as he remarked that he lived nearby, but hadn't realised it.

“It was sweet,” she admitted with a shrug, passing another customer their beverage. “The décor was dated, and the sound system didn't work well, but the company was nice.”

He nodded along. “This must be quite different, right?”

A shout of his name from the crowd drew his attention away from her. Adrien apologised with a small smile as he disappeared, leaving an unnecessary tip for her on top of the bar. She didn't catch sight of his bright mop of hair for the remainder of the evening, and it was only from the comments of her co-workers that she realised that he'd found someone else to go home with, something he was notorious for (since over fifty percent of the dates ended up badly with him crying somewhere, apparently).

It was two weeks later that she learned about his sporadic appearances; he visited the nightclub because of the DJ that played every few weeks was his friend. And, therefore, the group of friends that he came with were there for him, too. Adrien hovered by the bar for longer than was needed, chatting as he sipped at his drink that contained barely any alcohol that time, and as he talked animatedly, he moved his hands around to emphasise his points.

The only problem was when he accidentally hit another customer, but then he'd profusely apologised and ended up talking so much that the offended party had simply walked away with a grunt.

Marinette had tried to contain her laughter.

“It's not funny!” he tried to say, though he was smothering his laughter himself. “Oh, that was so embarrassing.”

The fact that her co-workers knew about his emotional moments—and even saw them as amusing—seemed more mortifying for him, though. She didn't mention that, so he wouldn't be ashamed of himself, and instead asked about his career.

Adrien co-owned a small café. It was only when she heard the name of it that she recognised it, as her parents pâtisserie supplied the sweet delicacies—for a fee—that they sold there each morning, as they were close by. Her father often did the runs while Marinette and her mother stayed at the store, and that was why she hadn't recognised him immediately. As Adrien and his other employees didn't have to wake up early to bake, it made sense that he was able to enjoy himself at night and stay up late.

The following week, when her father was about to go out to do the run, Marinette had volunteered to do it instead. Her father had raised his eyebrows before agreeing, and that was how she'd found herself knocking on the front door of a quaint café, staring through the glass panel to see the cute décor and artistic touches that were applied to the room.

She'd intended to surprise him, but instead a red-haired woman greeted her. “Hello! Our store isn't open for a few more hours, but you're welcome to come back later to be served.”

“Oh, no,” Marinette shook her head, awkwardly gesturing with her hand to the vehicle behind her. “I've got the bakery stuff? I offered to do it instead of my father today.”

“You're _Marinette_!” she exclaimed, pushing her her spectacles to the bridge of her nose. “It's so nice to meet you! Your father talks about you all the time, so I feel like I know you.”

She winced. “That's not very reassuring.”

“Knowing about your pyjamas is definitely a good thing, I assure you.” Grinning, the red-head continued on to say, “I'm Alya, by the way. I'll come outside and help you carry stuff in.”

Alya was nice. She had a good sense of humour, a sharp tongue for retorts, and positively cackled when she really enjoyed herself. Marinette returned the following days to deliver the food, and the red-haired female greeted her at the door each time with increasing enthusiasm. They decided to exchange phone numbers after a few days, and when Marinette had to tentatively reject Alya's plan to spend time together at the weekend due to her work arrangements, it was then that she told her that she was somewhat friends with Adrien.

That made things easier. Alya's boyfriend, Nino, was the DJ that Adrien visited the club for. Alya tried to attend them, but she wasn't too fond of nightclubs, so if she'd heard the set in her home beforehand due to him preparing, she didn't come along. She still supported him and his work, though, gushing about her boyfriend and his hands that were good for more than pressing buttons when they were getting the food out of her car.

They found time to watch films at Marinette's small home. Often they would drink hot beverages together in the café before it closed and the customers were dwindling, and Marinette was certain that she could call the bespectacled female a friend before too long.

Adrien continued to show up at the nightclub. She heard a tale of him being slapped from her co-workers, and although she hadn't witnessed it herself, it didn't sound like an embellished story. He was more than happy to stay beside the bar and slowly sip the drink that she'd specifically made for him, even those that weren't on the menu, and he stayed until the liquid was all gone before disappearing into the crowd for the night, only one drink per weekend.

She wondered whether he'd have better results if he bought those he was trying to woo a drink.

As the crowd was dying down, she was let off of work early. Marinette collected her belongings, overjoyed that she didn't have to stay for an extra two hours, and set out for the parking lot.

The tell-tale sound of crying caused her to groan.

She really didn't want to have to call security, but it wasn't good for the nightclub's image for there to be crying patrons outside, as they would put off any potential customers. Marinette tucked the stray hairs behind her ears as she rounded the corner, peering to see whether they were slumped against a wall or not.

When she saw the blond hair, she sighed.

“Adrien?” Marinette called out, already retrieving the packet of tissues from her pocket. “What are you doing here so late?”

He looked up at her with wet and red-rimmed eyes, tears falling down his cheeks as he sniffed. “Marinette?” he whispered, voice cracking.

“Yeah.” Her smile didn't reach her eyes. “What happened to your friends?”

He didn't protest as she reached out and dabbed at his face with the tissue. “I—they left earlier, I think. I wasn't really with them at the time.”

No doubt, he was probably dancing with someone else, not paying attention. “Were they your ride home?” she questioned, tucking the tissue into his hand. “I can drive you back, if so.”

“That's nice of you.” Adrien blinked rapidly at he looked at her with widened eyes, an expression akin to amazement. “You'd really do that for me?”

“Of course,” she replied easily. “I wouldn't want you to walk home at this hour.”

He rubbed at his eyes, further irritating them. “That's not what I meant.”

“Oh.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “We're—we're kind of friends, aren't we?”

The smile that blossomed on his face reached his eyes, causing the wet tops of his cheeks to reach them. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” Marinette replied awkwardly, running a hand through her hair in a self-conscious movement. “We've been hanging out when you get a drink, haven't we? I mean, if you just wanted to drink by the bar, you wouldn't have kept on talking to me, or even asked someone else to make stuff for you.”

The laugh that escaped him was throaty. “I—yeah. I just didn't want to presume too much.” He shrugged his shoulders lightly. “You must get a lot of people like me with your job.”

“Sure, but you're forgetting that I'm delivering the great pastries you sell at your café each morning,” she reminded him as she gestured over her shoulder, indicating for them to go towards the parking lot.

Adrien obediently followed beside her as he furrowed his brow and asked, “What?”

She shot him a confused look. “Did Alya not tell you?”

“Alya has a lot of secrets,” he replied immediately, looking at her through narrowed eyes. His eyelashes were wet, making them appear darker than usual, though she'd only really seen him in dim lighting of the outside at night, and inside of the club. “You know Alya?”

“Yeah, we hang out sometimes.” She grinned as they got into her car. Adrien reached out to fiddle with her brightly-coloured air freshener hanging off the mirror. “I thought she'd tell you, considering that she's aware that I'm friends you.”

There was restrained laughter as he pointed out, “I thought we were just kind of friends.”

“Well, you've been promoted now,” Marinette responded. “Where am I dropping you off to, Blondie?”

The way that he cringed from the nickname had her laughing. The roads weren't busy as he navigated, pointing out which direction to turn, and although he continued to hold the tissue in his hand, he wasn't crying any more. It was nice to see that he was mortified from being caught having emotions, not protesting her presence when he was vulnerable. It felt like he trusted her somewhat, as he hadn't walked away to reject her seeing him; she'd seen a lot of customers do that in the past, or try to hide when they were sobbing in the bathroom and causing a disturbance.

“You're probably wondering what happened,” Adrien quipped, disrupting the silence that had been there, other than his pointing.

She shrugged half-heartedly. “I only care whether you're okay, not what happened.”

From the corner of her eyes, she could see the dimly-lit smile that appeared. “You're really sweet, did you know that?”

“I only hear that when I smell like a bakery, usually,” Marinette responded smartly. “Right about now, I smell bad from the stuffy atmosphere of the club.”

A laugh escaped him, and it was soft and quiet. “You don't smell bad to me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Well, you're full of compliments tonight, aren't you?”

Their conversations in the beginning had been about the basics of their lives—name, occupation, and hobbies—and it had evolved from that quickly into silly comments and jokes, though they never mocked the other customers around them. Marinette had heard a horror story about a fight that had broken out with the employee that she'd replaced, since they'd been caught mocking someone that they'd just served, and had been heard by them.

“You deserve them, believe me,” the blond-haired male responded, talking quieter than they had outside, making the words seem more intimate than before. “So, you and Alya, eh?”

She blinked from the sudden change. “Yes? My father usually does the delivery, but I wanted to surprise you—imagine how awkward I was when I found out you don't even do the morning shift.”

“I'm not _that_ bad,” he defended himself weakly. She knew from Alya that he tended to appear half an hour before they opened, with messy hair and bleary eyes as he tried to get himself ready and presentable. “You—you went there for me?”

Reaching up to scratch her head, Marinette mumbled, “I just—I didn't want it to be weird, okay? We started talking a lot, and when you mentioned the name of the pâtisserie, I was just surprised that we had something in common, you know?”

There was a moment of silence that was filled with the nervous beating of her heart before he answered softly, “See, you're sweet.”

She snorted. “I wouldn't call it that. It sounds really creepy when I say it aloud.”

After he'd pointed out the final turn, Adrien turned to look at her with a wide smile as he removed the seatbelt. “Thank you for the lift, my lady.”

She did laugh at that. “There's no need for the dramatics. It's fine, okay? If I'm working in the future and you find yourself without a ride, just ask me.”

“Marinette,” he called softly, the smile showing dimples as it reached his green-coloured eyes that she could see illuminated by the street lamp that they were parked beside. As his eyelashes were dry, no streaks of wetness down his cheeks, she could tell that the ends were stained blond, matching his hair. “Can I kiss you?”

Surprised, Marinette turned her head to look at him fully with wide eyes. “What?”

The grin only widened, an edge of fondness seeping into it and his voice as he asked again, “Can I kiss you?”

“I— _why_?” she questioned dumbly, sounding as shocked as she was sure she looked.

They'd become friends, yes, and she could clearly admit that he was attractive, but past the easy banter that they'd shared, she hadn't thought that there was a chance of being anything more, not when she heard the notorious tales of his romantic interests. Marinette hadn't fantasised themselves as anything more, not even when she'd drove to the café with the intention of surprising him with her appearance.

“Well, you're sweet,” he started, tilting his head curiously at her reaction. “Attractive, and pretty awesome to talk to. Why wouldn't I want to kiss you?”

Still, she stared. “This is why you got slapped, isn't it?”

He didn't look taken aback. Adrien wrinkled his nose in displeasure as he asked, “You heard about that?”

”...Yes.”

The smile appeared to be sheepish as he pointed out, “And now you're thinking about what atrocities I could've committed the times you found me crying.”

He'd somewhat explained himself the first time she'd found him, and since then she hadn't listened out to the gossip that had surrounded his appearances. Marinette didn't particularly care for it, not when she was friendly with the one behind the rumours, so she'd stayed away from them.

Shrugging half-heartedly, the dark-haired female responded reasonably, “How about you work on getting my number before we kiss?”

Whether it was meant to be a joke or not, Adrien huffed out a laugh as he opened the door. “Thank you for everything, Marinette. I'll see you next week.”

“Bye!” she called out.

-x-

Alya greeted her throughout the week, and her parents didn't question her further when she'd told them that she'd befriended one of the owners of the café. If anything, they were pleased that she was enjoying herself in her free time, though they did still question whether she really wanted to work as a bartender at all. They were willing to offer her a stable job at their business, but she felt like it would've been handed to her, especially since she wasn't technically qualified for the position, nor for helping in the kitchen.

It was a mixture of stubbornness and not knowing what to do with herself that kept her up at late hours, taking a nap in the late afternoon before she arrived at the nightclub, and waking up before dawn to help with the pâtisserie. A messy-haired Marinette arrived in front of the café, tiredly knocking on the pane of glass on the door where she knew Alya would see her, and was overjoyed when she was offered a warm beverage in exchange for her services. In return, Marinette set aside something edible that she'd specifically packed for Alya to eat—it was a nice system that they'd developed.

A week or so later, after she hadn't seen Adrien at the nightclub due to other DJs being the guests, she'd arrived knocked on the glass front door per usual, yawning into her hand.

“Have you even brushed your hair?”

She might've jumped.

Turning her head quickly—causing the ratty hair that he'd mentioned to whip around with her—Marinette furrowed her eyes in confusion as she took in the blond-haired male standing in front of her in the doorway. The lights from within the shop illuminated in better than any other lighting, and she was able to tell that their skin colours were similarly pale.

“Adrien?” she questioned, standing on her toes to attempt to peer past him to see where Alya was.

Placing a hand on her head to push her down to stand normally, the male replied with a laugh, “Alya's ill, so I'm here to take over the duty of escorting you inside.”

“Oh.” She wondered whether she'd have a message if she checked her cell phone. “It's more like you escort in food, rather than me. I pretty much know my way around now.”

He grinned, showing the white of his teeth. “I can work with that.”

After placing the boxes inside and stacking them together, Marinette hovered awkwardly as she placed the plastic-wrapped pastry for Alya on the countertop by the register. Adrien was busy stocking the displays and trying to make sure everything was in the right place, leaning over and reaching out so she could see his arms as he moved, the short-sleeved t-shirt allowing the muscles to be seen.

She cleared her throat. “You can have this, if you want.”

“Oh?” Adrien didn't turn around from where he was reaching up to a shelf. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Shifting her feet, Marinette admitted, “I usually exchange something with Alya for a hot drink in return.”

“Is that why you look worn out?” he questioned, turning to look over his shoulder with raised eyebrows. “Sleep might be better for you than caffeine.”

“Yes, thank you,” she answered quickly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes from how often she'd heard the advice. “I can take a nap later after I'm off from work, anyway. I was up late because someone decided to vomit in the bathroom at the nightclub, and I was the one to find it on my rounds.”

With a whistle, Adrien returned to standing up normally and turned to face her. “I can make you something drink, if you've got time.”

After checking her cell phone, Marinette shook her head. “I have to get back, sorry. You can just owe me something later.”

“I already owe you for the lift,” he reminded her, carrying half of the stacked boxes alongside her, and even holding the door open as she struggled past him. “What about if I take you on a date?”

Almost tripping over from the surprise, the dark-haired female managed to stabilise herself at the last moment, and raised her head—complete with flushed cheeks—to stare at him accusingly. “You still don't have my number.”

“A lot of things are adding up to when I get your number,” he commented, sounding amused as he moved to stand next to her on the pavement after the boxes were placed within the vehicle. “You're not going to tell me that the apocalypse will happen, too, right?”

She snorted. “There's only a small chance of that, I promise.”

“All right.” He grinned widely, not looking as sleepy as he had when he'd opened the door. “I'll see you at the weekend, then. Nino's booked to play there.”

As she'd yet to meet Nino, or hear about him other than Adrien's comments and Alya's gushing over her boyfriend, Marinette simply nodded her head. They parted quickly, with him standing on the pavement and walking until he turned the corner, promptly shaking her head from the nervous fluttering of her heart that was present.

She knew not to expect too much from him, really. Alya had mentioned his dates before, saying that they'd never lasted too long and that he hadn't been in a steady relationship since she'd known him, and from the comments she'd heard at work, that seemed to be true. After all, constantly acquiring dates that were partially intoxicated didn't seem to be a good idea, not when he didn't enjoy drinking himself—then again, Marinette hadn't actually witnessed his choice in companions, so they could've been sober and simply disliked his approach.

She was putting too much thought into it.

From what she knew, from their teasing comments at the bar and the easy conversation that morning, Adrien was _nice_. There wasn't anything overly strong or off-putting about him from what she could tell; he'd never came on too strong and tried to scare her away, nor had he made any lecherous remarks that had the opposite effect of his appearance. She wondered how he'd gotten himself slapped, or rejected the countless ways that had been the talk of her co-workers for months due to the absurdity of it.

So, she asked.

Lila was more than happy to grin lopsidedly as she explained, “I've only been working here for a year, but Blondie turns up every few weeks, you know?”

“Yes.” Marinette nodded her head, sipping from the water bottle in her hands every now and then. They were on their break for a while, cooling down after a customer had gotten rowdy. “He's here to support Nino, the DJ. That's why he's not here every week.”

The brown-haired female waved a hand dismissively. “That's not important—what is is that whenever he tries to flirt with someone within hearing distance, it's absolutely hilarious.”

“Why is that?” she questioned, looking at her curiously. From what she knew, her co-workers purposely ignored Adrien's name and referred to him as Blondie to save the confusion when he was talked about.

“The guy has the worst pick-up lines in the world, okay?” Lila laughed, an honest sound that didn't sound like the forced ones that she let out when customers were flirting with her while waiting. “I'm not even kidding. It's like he's rehearsed them in his room, and then recites them terribly to some unsuspecting soul.”

She furrowed her brows. “They can't be that bad.”

“Save yourself the trouble and never say that you like water.” Lila grinned. “He's horrendously awkward when he does it, too. Sometimes, his partner's really into it since he's a good dancer, then as soon as they go somewhere quieter to talk, it all just falls apart.”

Well, that would explain why he sobbed in the alleyways and anywhere outside of the nightclub, rather than within the crowds. “Is it—I mean, are you really okay with making fun of him all the time?”

“Someone has to laugh at his bad puns.” The brunette shrugged, flicking her long hair over her shoulder, still ignoring the rule to have it tied back, though their boss hadn't complained. “He strikes out with his sense of humour ninety percent of the time, and we give him free drinks if he comes back in after being rejected. It seems pretty fair to me.”

She kept an eye out for blond hair in the crowd, idly serving the customers that strolled up throughout the evening. Adrien hadn't appeared as usual within an hour of Nino's set, and Marinette started to wonder whether he'd caught the cold that Alya had had. Considering that she didn't have his number, there was nothing more she could do than theorise, and it wasn't as though she was friendly enough with him to question Alya on his well-being.

“I'm taking a break quickly,” Marinette whispered to her co-worker, who grunted in confirmation in return, not rejecting it.

She went into the staff bathroom to splash her face quickly, then considered going outside for fresh air before she simply strolled down the hallway, pausing in surprise when she heard hushed voices.

A familiar laugh sounded, though it was more forced than usual. “Are you sure? We could be out here, all alone, if you wanted to be.”

As alone as they thought they were, really.

Marinette walked past without looking, footsteps drowned out by the pounding music that was seeping through the doors. She'd gotten a few steps away from opening them before the female that had spoken shot past her, high-heeled shoes clicking as they entered the dimly-lit club with the flashing lights surrounding the floor.

Curiously, Marinette peeked over her shoulder to see whether he'd require the assistance of tissues again. The toilets for customers were on the other side of the club, and only an emergency exit was accessible for patrons where he was—it was a common place for heavy petting and frottage before an employee stumbled upon them, and proceeded to have them escorted outside by security. She wasn't going to do that to him, though.

“I could get you kicked out for that,” the dark-haired female mused as she walked closer to where he was leaning against the wall, eyes dry and staring down at his shoes.

Adrien visibly jumped, head snapping up as he looked at her with widened eyes, a surprised expression on his face that quickly morphed into a bright smile. “Marinette!” he exclaimed in greeting, looking and sounding happier than he had moments ago, when he hadn't been aware that she was there. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here.” She raised her eyebrows. “And what are you doing back here when there's not an emergency? Having sexual relations inside is against the rules, as I'm sure you know.”

A hand was raised to where an extra button was undone on his shirt, and he hastily redid it. “Nothing happened,” he insisted.

There was no reason for him to explain himself, yet she murmured, “I'm sure.”

“Really.” He huffed, breath moving the stray strands of his fringe that had escaped being pushed aside. Adrien busied himself by pushing up the sleeves of his shirt as he walked closer to her, no longer slouched against the wall. “I didn't know you were working tonight.”

“Really,” she replied dryly, repeating his word flatly. “I haven't taken a day off ill since I started here, and I've worked the same days.”

A sigh escaped him as he raised a hand to run through his hair roughly, ruining the style that he'd had. “Okay, I was avoiding you.”

That thought had crossed her mind, but it seemed too self-centred to truly consider it. “Why?” Marinette enquired softly, voice barely audible from the blaring music a door away from them.

“It seems silly,” he admitted, looking anywhere but at her as his tone matched hers. She could see the shadows that his eyelashes made on his cheeks as he glanced downwards. “I asked Alya for your number.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, confused, Marinette blurted, “Okay?”

“It wasn't really.” He shook his head slightly, hands falling down to retreat into the pockets of his trousers, an action that she'd hadn't seen him do before; it made him appear younger and more vulnerable than the man that she'd come to know. “Let's just say, she warned me not to treat you like others.”

That was surprisingly sweet and offensive all at once. She put the hints together quickly, crossing her arms beneath her breasts as she regarded him, taking in the embarrassment that was becoming clear—whether it was due to him feeling like that due to be chastised, or because of his behaviour towards her, she wasn't sure.

He hadn't done anything she hadn't liked, though. Adrien had been nothing but nice, and hadn't pursued her without consent. For Alya to look out for her, to make it so she wasn't becoming one of the tales that were told between her co-workers, was protectively sweet and baffling. It meant that for Alya, Marinette was someone to watch out for, a friend even. Marinette was someone to not be discarded if her relations with Adrien went sour, and the red-head was merely looking out for her, making sure Marinette wouldn't be a scorned conquest that usually ended in his emotional responses.

“Adrien,” she called, causing him to look up at her sheepishly. “I'm not going to belittle you for your choices, okay? If you enjoy sex, that's fine. I don't have a say in it.”

He choked, coughing into a clenched fist. “What?”

“Well, that's probably why you asked to kiss me, right?” Marinette asked, wanting clarification despite the warmth that was building in her cheeks. They were adults, and it was a relationship that had been around for longer than she'd been alive. “I'm capable of making my own choices—all you had to do was ask.”

“For your number,” he pointed out, glancing at her dubiously.

The feelings she had for him were lustful, yes. From their limited interactions and time spent together, it was clear that she was attracted to him—and it was reciprocated—and there was no shame in that. Marinette felt no scorn for those that took care of their body's needs without dealing with the feelings that were commonly attached to it, even if she hadn't pursued that relationship by herself before. Other than kissing at parties back when she was at school, her sexual actions were involved with relationships and affectionate feelings.

She smiled shyly. “Well, I'd prefer to see you another day instead of after work, so it's easier to get in contact if you have my number, isn't it?”

He looked surprised, realisation clear as he only managed to say, “Oh.”

Holding a hand out, Marinette requested, “Phone, please.”

It was after she'd placed her number onto his device and started to return back into the main part of the nightclub that she placed a hand over her nervously beating heart, releasing the deep breath that she'd held for a better part of the walk. There was a nervous energy building within her, wondering whether he'd really ask to meet with her—she knew where he lived, after all, and he knew that she was more than interested.

It was something her younger self never would've done.

-x-

If she was being honest, she really hadn't expected him to call. She'd acted so confident at the club when demanding for his cell phone, not portraying her jittery nervousness, yet when she arrived on his doorstep in the knee-length dress that she wore to work at her parents' store, she was smoothing out the material countless times before pressing the doorbell.

Adrien had answered the door with a bright smile, inviting her inside as though she'd visited his home countless times, and she was offered a choice of drinks before she decided on just water.

Lila's reminder not to say she liked it made her choke.

Adrien patted her back while her face was burning and she was coughing, trying to recover from the slip. After clearing her throat and putting the glass down, absolutely embarrassed from how suave she was being, she'd tried not to look at him for a few minutes until her racing heart had calmed down, aware of the clammy hands that she was hiding in the folds of her dress.

“You do smell sweet,” the blond-haired male remarked from beside her on the sofa, his clothed thigh touching hers. “Perks of working at a bakery, I suppose?”

She glanced at his wet hair. “I'm not really a shower after work person.”

After her work at the pâtisserie, Marinette often took a nap before dinner and her shift at the nightclub, filling up her spare time with productive things. When her washing machine had broken, she'd been a regular in the early hours of the morning using the machines that were available for everyone, wandering downstairs in pyjamas and waving sleepily at those that entered late from similar night shifts.

Somehow, that transitioned into laughter and natural conversation, and she didn't jump when Adrien placed his hand on her thigh, an action more intimate than anything they'd done. If anything, Marinette shifted her legs together, causing a burst of friction due to the material of her underwear that she'd changed into before getting in her car, and glanced up at him from her eyelashes, noting the height difference between them, even when sitting down—when standing, she usually came to his shoulders, a feature about him that she found attractive.

Marinette was the one that made the first move when she'd become fed up with the closeness and teasing trailing of his fingers as they talked. She'd tentatively raised her hand to his cheek, giving him a chance to pull away and reject her, but all he'd done was look at her fondly as a smile appeared, and she'd moved forward to lightly brush her nose against his as she moved.

She licked her lips self-consciously before pressing them against his.

His arms were wrapped around her waist loosely, a comforting presence that wasn't suffocating as their lips clumsily moved against each other, not the sexually charged kiss that it could've been; they were both equally uncertain and slow, taking it step by step rather than pushing each other. Marinette's eyes closed with a content sigh at the constant pressure on her lips, not at all embarrassed when their teeth clashed for a moment due to her eagerness, and there was no reprimand or him pulling away due to her nerves.

With one hand clutching at his shirt for a sense of control and the other moved to fiddle with the hairs at the back of his head as they moved, Marinette didn't protest as his tongue met hers enthusiastically, the rapid beating of her heart echoing within her head. She was aware of the pulse that had spiked and travelled lower, connecting between her legs where it was demanding attention and contact.

When she broke the kiss for a moment to shift her body on the sofa so she was climbing on his lap, legs on either side. His back was pushed back against the cushions, and a noise of appreciation that sounded like a moan escaped him as she settled down onto his obvious arousal. Through the thin material of her dress and underwear she was able to feel him as she shifted her hips as the kiss continued again, a moan muffled between them as she moved.

The hands that had been around her waist travelled lower slowly, giving her a chance to protest. Yet, all Marinette did was grind herself against the heat that was pressing into her, creating friction that caused her to groan, clearly showing her approval. Adrien's hands reached beneath her clothes and cupped her backside in appreciation, squeezing and running over the smooth skin where her underwear wasn't covering it, leaving lingering warmth where he had been.

As he responded in kind, rutting against her with ragged breaths that she could feel on her reddened lips, Marinette asked lowly, “Bedroom?”

A chaste kiss was pressed to her lips before he replied with a hoarse voice, “Are you serious?”

She opened her eyes to take in the splotches of colour on his cheeks. “Yes.”

“Fucking hell, you're amazing,” Adrien exclaimed, sounding overjoyed and excited all at once. It was a stark difference to the question from before as he squeezed her backside again, lifting his hips into her to emphasise his point. “If you're absolutely sure.”

The words contradicted the feeling of his member that was rubbing against her, yet she smiled at the consistent way he made sure that she was consenting.

“Yes,” she murmured, running her fingers through the blond hair that was out of place and ruffled at the back. “Unless you want to fuck me on your couch, we should probably move.”

There was no worry that he was going to drop her, because he wasn't bold enough to try and carry her to the bedroom as some of her other partners had. Instead, Marinette had her hand held by his as he directed them through his home, climbing the stairs as she briefly admired the clean space and sparse decorations, too preoccupied to fully appreciate them as she was pulled through into his bedroom, where light was streaming through the long transparent curtains that almost reached his floor.

Rather than sitting down beside him on top of the duvet, she boldly reached for the button at the back of her dress that she needed to undo, before she pulled the material over her head and draping it over the frame of the bed at the bottom, standing before him in her undergarments with flushed cheeks.

When she saw the surprise that was clear on his face, she laughed softly, the self-consciousness that had been there previously evaporated as she saw the way his eyes flickered across her figure.

“Aren't you going to join me?” she questioned, purposely tilting her head slightly, so her hair brushed against the top of her partially covered breasts.

He cleared his throat. “Right.”

There was nothing suave about him at that moment, and that was what made her feel comfortable, really. There was no cocky expressions, dirty remarks, or even lewd comments that she'd wondered about; Adrien was hesitant with each of his actions, making sure she was okay with them first, and that was more attractive than any whispered words that could've been spoken into her ear, complete with his hot breath fanning over the exposed flesh.

As his clothing was removed, messily joining hers on the frame, she perched herself on the edge of the bed, heart beating wildly in her chest as she acknowledged the dampness of her underwear.

“I—hi,” he started, colour across his cheeks as he turned to look at her in a similar state of undress.

Her lips curled into a smile. “Hey yourself.”

“Fuck, you're pretty,” Adrien blurted.

She laughed. “I can't imagine that's why you got yourself slapped.”

A sheepish grin appeared as he ran a hand through his already messy hair. “No, I—I'd rather not talk about that right now.”

“Of course,” the dark-haired female replied easily, knowing that it was understandable that he didn't want to relive his failed attempts at romance at that moment. Marinette had just been attempting to stall to get her confidence back up, though it appeared that he was experiencing much the same. Boldly, she ran a hand over his bare thigh, reaching up to fiddle with the end of his underwear. “So, are we just going to talk?”

She watched as he gulped.

As they kissed—more heated than before, less hesitance—her brassiere was tossed aside, and after he'd trailed his fingers over her covered cleft teasingly, her underwear joined the rest of her clothing.

His disappeared, too, and she pumped his erection with enthusiasm, revelling in the heavy breaths that escaped him as he kept his eyes firmly closed in pleasure. The warmth of his arousal against her palm was pleasant, and she ran her thumb over his tip as his fingers stroked between her legs, touching the damp flesh before he entered her with a single digit.

Marinette rested her head against his shoulder, warm breaths splashing against the crook of his neck as his finger moved, and she continued her ministrations on him in return. A second finger joined in, and noises of approval left her as the pleasure increased. Her wrist was beginning to tire from her movements, yet she kept up the pace that she'd started, moans muffled against his skin as he reached within her, returning the enthusiasm well.

Abruptly, he caught a hold of her wrist, stopping her from continuing, so her hand tightened around his member as she peered up at him curiously.

“I—sorry,” he apologised quickly, looking embarrassed.

She gathered the situation as he shifted, allowing her hand to move to rest on his thigh while his own retreated from within her. “It's fine,” Marinette assured him, voice stronger and not wobbling despite the throbbing between her legs.

“Are you still sure about this?” Adrien questioned, licking his lips afterwards.

She might've stared at the mouth for longer than necessary.

Clearing her throat, Marinette shifted her legs together so her thighs touched. “ _Yes_.”

The blond-haired male reached over to his bedside table, retrieving a wrapper from a drawer, and it was awkward as she sat there, not knowing what to do with herself while he prepared. It seemed too intimate to brush her fingertips along his skin in anticipation, or even place kisses on his neck—it felt too romantic, not quite right for what they were doing.

There could've been more than attraction there if they wanted there to be; Marinette was sure that she was capable of developing feelings—more than lust, at least—for him if the opportunity arose, but at that moment, that wasn't what they were focusing on.

A kiss to her lips brought her back to the present. Marinette allowed herself to be manoeuvred so her head was resting on the pillows, back pressed against the duvet that was covering the mattress. It was soft, not scratchy against her naked back, though there wasn't a chance to announce any complaints she could've had as she wrapped her legs around his waist, shifting so she was comfortable, and linking her arms around his shoulders for support.

“It's fine,” she breathed against his lips when they'd been kissing for a while, with no sign of anything happening in the near future. She could feel the heat of his body pressing against her, but he wasn't pursuing what she _wanted—_

Feeling his warm breath caress her face as he pulled back, glistening lips on display from the light, and the colouring across his cheeks that she'd grown fond of, Marinette moaned softly as the tip of his member rubbed against her protrusion. There was a moment where their breaths filled the silence, before he gently pushed within her, a slight pinch appearing from the stretch as he fully settled within her, hips pressing against hers.

He gave her time to adjust, keeping still to make sure there was no pain. It was another sweet thing that he'd done, even more so than actually asking her for permission to kiss her.

Marinette raised her head to kiss his cheek lightly before she rested it back on the pillows. “Go ahead,” she urged him, smile reaching her blue-coloured eyes.

He grinned right back.

The rhythm was slow at first, messy as their initial kiss. Adrien's breaths were audible as he shifted his hips, and she rose hers to meet his movements in return, gasping softly to herself from the building sensations. His hands were on either side of her, holding him up so she wouldn't be crushed, and with every thrust, she was able to feel his pelvis brushing over her protrusion, adding on pleasure to the already spiralling heat that was coiling within her abdomen.

She wasn't sure if she moaned his name.

Her bangs were damp and sticking to her forehead, wet skin from where their bodies were touching, and the sound of their pants and their slick flesh hitting each other filled the room, the intimate sounds spurring her on. Marinette's fingernails dug into his bare shoulders as he moved, hitting a bundle of nerves within her that had her clenching her eyes shut. There was no seeing the way the light streaming through the window illuminated him as she shifted her hips, and she couldn't see the way his mouth was open from pleasure as he moved.

That didn't mean that the way he felt against her didn't turn her on, though. Being attracted to him was one thing, but having his body flush against hers—to see the heat, their connected parts as they breathed heavily against each other—was something else entirely.

Marinette shuddered against him as her pleasure reached its peak.

He rutted against her for a few more thrusts, searching for his own desire, and it was only as she felt his body collapse on top of her, breathing heavily as he tried not to crush her, that she realised that he'd hit it, too.

Her hands fell down onto the duvet instead of reaching out to run through his hair, or any other intimate action she could've done.

The silence was filled with their breathing as they didn't know what to say with each other—Marinette's heart was still beating madly, the pulse still present between her sticky legs as she was aware of how tired she probably looked—before he recovered enough to pull out slowly, audibly wincing from the sensitivity.

As he reached for tissues, the dark-haired female sat up and wiped at her sweaty face.

“Where's your bathroom?” she asked, throat dry.

Gesturing with his head as he cleaned up, Adrien replied, “Over there.”

Grabbing a hold of her clothes, Marinette entered the bathroom and immediately splashed water on her face. After cleaning herself up and forgoing the damp underwear, choosing not to submit herself to that uncomfortable feeling, she had the underwear bundled up in her hand as she walked back into the bedroom, putting it into her bag immediately.

Adrien wasn't in the room any more, though.

She furrowed her brows.

The nervous hammering of her heart hadn't stopped until she'd reached the bottom of the stairs. Adrien was visible in the kitchen, kettle in hand as he poured out water into two brightly-coloured mugs.

Running a hand through her hair in relief, Marinette announced her presence with, “I thought you left.”

He looked up, visibly surprised. “Hey, Marinette,” Adrien greeted her, knitting his eyebrows together with a confused smile. “This is my house, though? I guess you might've thought I was still living with my parents or something, but—”

That only caused her to laugh aloud, and when he looked even more befuddled, it only spurred on her chuckles as she wrapped her arms around her middle, breathless noises escaping her as she released the tension and silly insecurities that had appeared.

“I meant—oh, forget about it.” She shook her head, cheeks coloured from her laughter and their activities. Trying not to take in the messy blond locks, that were entirely her doing, Marinette rested her body against the frame of the door, hovering uncertainly. “Thank you.”

Raising a hand to self-consciously touch the nape of his neck, a movement she only saw every now and then, Adrien replied, “I—okay. You're welcome, I think?”

It sounded like a question, and that caused her lips to curl into a smile. “I should probably get going, though. I have work in a few hours.”

She didn't know whether to be surprised or not when his gaze flickered down away from her as he murmured, “Oh.”

Back before she'd knocked at his door, she'd told herself not to expect more; it wasn't a relationship, and the dread of him leaving her alone in his bedroom had resurfaced the worries that she'd had in the beginning about being able to be so casual with sex. It wasn't too bad—Adrien had been kind, and she was returning that by not trying to push him for more, not when she didn't understand what she wanted herself.

“Right, okay.” Adrien cleared his throat, fingers touching the second mug that caused her stomach to twist from guilt for a moment. “Good luck tonight, then.”

“Yeah.” Her voice sounded foreign to her as she secured the strap of her bag on her shoulder, taking quiet steps towards him as she stood on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I had a nice time, Adrien.”

As she stood up properly again, she watched as he looked conflicted for a moment before an honest smile spread across his lips, displaying his dimples, as he uttered, “Me, too.”

-x-

She hadn't expected a repeat, really.

Well, she'd thought about it at night before stopping herself from sending him a message, the nervous fluttering of her heart appearing whenever she considered the idea. Marinette decided against it in the end, going about her usual routine of spending time with Alya in the mornings, and on her occasional day off, even going to the red-head's home and meeting Nino, her boyfriend, who she'd only ever seen across the nightclub from the bad lighting that somehow seemed to encourage people to dance more.

With his black hair that was curly and short, often hidden beneath a hat, he was more than welcoming to her, especially when it was revealed that she was friends with Adrien, too.

They didn't question the colouring that appeared on her cheeks.

When Adrien appeared at the nightclub two weeks later for Nino's show, he didn't approach her for a drink straight away. Their little makeshift routine had been ruined since Alya had warned him against pursuing her, yet after catching his eye as he stopped dancing to catch his breath, walking away from the crowd that took over a lot of space, she found herself taking her allotted break elsewhere than the designated break-room.

As she input the code to the staff bathroom, Adrien quipped, “I promise not to steal it for nefarious purposes in the future.”

She almost turned around to roll her eyes at him. “That's good. It changes every few weeks, so you'd have to act quickly to take advantage of it.”

“Now I'm just learning all the tricks of working here,” the blond-haired male mused, body standing close to hers as she tried to remember the right numbers.

The last digit had been put in correct as his fingers trailed over her clothed lower back.

It hadn't been her intention after catching his eye, not after he'd avoided talking to her since they'd last had sex. Marinette had worried whether they'd ruined their friendship before realising that she'd barely seen him outside of work, and he certainly hadn't had her number before they'd pursued each other, therefore it meant that her worries were meaningless. Perhaps, he wasn't the type to want to message her constantly—and why would he?

It was all so juvenile and embarrassing when she thought about it.

There wasn't much time for conversation as they kissed when the door was shut and locked, the colour by the handle indicating that it was occupied so no one would stumble upon them, and Marinette eagerly ran her fingers over the tight shirt that he was wearing, the one that she'd been admiring sticking to his body earlier in the evening when she'd caught sight of him.

Adrien didn't protest as she undid the buttons, allowing her to touch his bare skin, and she responded in kind as their tongues tangled and he toyed with the button of her tight jeans that she regularly wore for her uniform.

Her trousers were pushed down as she pulled him close, returning the favour for him as she whispered, “Do you have anything with you?”

It was as upfront and confident as she'd been before, and she was sure that she appeared that way despite the hammering of her pulse (which had travelled downwards as soon as she'd brushed against his arousal).

“ _Really_?” Adrien questioned, reddened lips brushing against hers as he spoke. “I—you want to?”

She would've laughed if she wasn't so strapped for time. Marinette settled with wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him close against her clothed chest as she kissed him deeply and enthusiastically, trying to portray her intent clearly, even though it should've been clear since the moment she'd locked the door. It was reckless and exciting all at once, and her moan was muffled into his mouth as he trailed his fingertips across her underwear, purposely applying pressure to her protrusion.

“ _Yes_ ,” she confessed, voice low and breathy all at once.

Thankfully, he didn't need to be told twice. Marinette pushed her underwear uncomfortably down to her knees as he prepared himself, turning around so her hands were gripping the sink for support, adamantly avoiding looking into the mirror to see her flushed state. She could already feel the burning in her face, that was sure to be matched between her legs where dampness had already appeared from anticipation.

Adrien's hand caressed her lower back, trailing down to smooth over her buttocks before he settled with holding onto her hip. “Are you sure?” he asked, an intimate whisper from him leaning closer.

In response, she shifted her body backwards, pressing against the warmth of his skin to act as her answer.

She felt the pressure of his tip pressing against her, and she sucked in a sharp breath as he pushed inside slowly, her body protesting from the lack of preparation. There was a tinge of pain that was smothered by the feeling of him fully situated within her, the heat of his body pressing against hers from where they were connect. She could feel the material of his shirt on the bare bits of her skin, her own pushed upwards to give him a large area to caress idly as he waited for her to adjust.

“It's fine,” Marinette whispered hoarsely, touched and pleased from the patience that he showed.

The first thrust had her gripping onto the counter for support, eyes squeezed shut as she groaned softly, adjusting her body for a better and more comfortable angle to meet his movements. The rhythm built up, the sound of their slick skin connecting filling the room and echoing due to the size, and it only caused her to feel accomplished rather than embarrassed by it. She covered her mouth with one hand to avoid attracting attention, muffling her own noises of pleasure.

Adrien's hands were firmly on her hips, fingernails digging into her skin and surely leaving little half-moon shapes, and her ragged breaths were matched by his as a frantic pace began. It wasn't even nor smooth in any way; sometimes the thrusts were shallow, causing her to make a noise of frustration in return, and at times he removed his arousal until just the tip was within until sharply moving back inside. As it was, the blond-haired male was rutting against her for release, rather than teasing her any further.

Shuddering against her, Adrien's head rested on her shoulder as he abruptly stopped, and she peered up into the mirror in wonder to see the blissful expression that was partially hidden by her shirt. After a few moments had passed, he withdrew carefully, already reaching for tissue as she straightened herself out.

She didn't voice her frustrations, nor the throbbing pulse that was left unsatisfied between her legs. Marinette straightened herself out and pulled her clothing up, redoing the button without a complaint.

The evidence had been discarded once he'd turned back to her, trousers and underwear bunched upon his thighs as he hadn't tidied himself up yet.

“I—” Adrien started before his eyes flickered downstairs, lips curling into a frown. “Marinette, I—”

She interrupted him by shaking her head. “Don't worry about it, really. I have to get back to work.”

His lips closed into the frown after he murmured, “Oh.”

Marinette shifted awkwardly on the spot, raising a hand to the damp hair on her forehead, wondering whether she could get away with it looking natural. “I—yeah,” she said evasively, looking anywhere but at him. “Just—I'll see you around, okay?”

It was her _workplace—_ that was all that was running through her head as she quickly walked through the hallway, moving behind the bar to take her spot once more. There were cameras in the hallways, catching every movement and act to deter illegal activities, and she highly doubted that pulling a customer into the bathroom for sex was allowable. She avoided the eyes of her co-workers guiltily, steadily working and passing out the orders with clammy hands as she thought about her mistake.

It was karma that it hadn't ended well, she guessed. Marinette had been caught up on the way his shirt had clung to him, the attractive curve of his smile, and it was only fair that the second time hadn't been as good as the first.

She decided it was a mistake easily. The damp underwear she had to wear for the evening was justice.

Adrien didn't buy a drink from her that night. He could've interacted with her co-workers instead, and since the room was packed, she was too busy to find out for herself.

Nino did stop by after his set, sweaty with his curls hidden beneath a hat as he grinned in greeting, wrapping her in a half-hearted hug with one arm. He proceeded to invite her to his home for a party in the upcoming weeks to celebrate his anniversary of selling his first album, a tradition that they repeated each year in their home, rather than with him working a job.

The next time she delivered the goods to the café, Alya repeated the words and invited her again, not realising that she'd already been spoken to by Nino. They exchanged their usual drink and food, sitting around together for a spare few minutes before Marinette had to get going, exchanging messages throughout the week whenever Marinette had free time between her jobs. Alya had already professed her confusion to Marinette's lifestyle, but she wasn't lecturing her as others had done.

So, it was with a container filled with pastries tucked under her arm that she rang the bell at the house, clad in a tight white dress that she'd been waiting to wear for an occasion.

Alya's lips were painted a deep burgundy as she opened the door. “You made it!” she greeted, pulling her into a tight hug immediately. “I'm so glad, some of my friends had to cancel for tonight.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she offered to be polite when they pulled apart, offering the container out with a shy smile. “It's fancier than the usual you sell, so I thought you'd like to try some.”

With a groan, the red-haired female took it from her hands, leading the way inside eagerly. Marinette was directed to the table of offered drinks—picking up water instead of an alcoholic beverage early—and the food that was on display, though Alya tucked away the pastries in a cupboard to avoid them being eaten by others too soon. When Alya turned to wink at her, Marinette laughed and promised not to reveal their location.

She mingled with the different guests, meeting those that she'd only seen in passing at the nightclub and introducing herself properly. A lot of them were nice and welcoming, and the crowd seemed to be drawn to the patio that was illuminated by colourful lights outside, rather than staying in the living room. Marinette found herself a wooden seat, that wasn't wet due to the large parasol that covered an area from the similarly wooden table, and found herself talking to a dark-skinned male that had introduced himself as Max.

They'd been comparing video games they enjoyed when Adrien made his appearance, walking through the patio door with Nino by his side, brightly smiling and greeting those that turned his way.

Marinette didn't know whether to feel awkward or not, especially when his shadow came to stand beside her.

Max, who had been talking, cut himself off to say, “Oh, hey, Adrien.”

“Hi, Max.” He grinned, reaching out to pat the sitting male on the shoulder. “I thought I heard your name in passing, but here you are, hiding out with our newest member.”

Max snorted. “Sorry about him, Marinette. I've been trying to tell him we're not a gang since we were thirteen.”

“Oh,” she replied dumbly, lacking a better response. As both sets of eyes turned to look at her, Marinette purposely took a sip from her glass. “I—we know each other, actually.”

“You should've just said so!” Max answered enthusiastically, brightening up from the small titbit of knowledge. “In that case, I'll see you later. It was nice meeting you, Marinette!”

And with that said, the dark-skinned male disappeared through the other guests, leaving her sat there with Adrien standing beside her somewhat stiffly, hands tucked into his pockets.

”...What?” she questioned, eyes flickering between the retreating form and Adrien's suddenly sheepish smile.

He shrugged half-heartedly, as best as he could when his hands were hidden. “Sorry about that,” he offered, sounding insincere. “Max just tries to be a wingman a lot.”

“Right,” Marinette mumbled, both hands on her glass as she took another sip.

Adrien stayed there, hovering awkwardly for a moment, seemingly unsure on whether he was going to stay. He'd just arrived, after all, and there was probably countless guests that he could've talked to, but instead of walking away, he was standing there beside her.

Her expression softened. “You can sit down, if you want.”

Surprise was visible as he sat down in the seat that Max had been in previously, knees close to touching hers as he shifted to look at her, hands on the arms of the chair. “Thanks.” He grinned, the curve of it causing his cheeks to reach his eyes. “It's quiet over here.”

It wasn't as loud as the nightclub was. Nino had music playing from his laptop that was sheltered beside him, drinks purposely kept away from it, and the volume was low so conversation could still be heard as people interacted. She could spy Alya laughing and holding onto someone else, while Nino was a few metres away, talking with a broad-shouldered male that was covering his mouth as he laughed.

Marinette's seat was on the opposite side of where most guests had grouped, and that was the reason for her choosing it when Max had asked whether she wanted to sit down to talk. “I guess,” she agreed easily.

One of Adrien's hands fell onto his thigh and he started to tap onto his trousers. “I'm sorry,” he blurted suddenly, green-coloured eyes flickering to see whether he'd drawn unwanted attention to himself. “You—last time—”

If she'd been drinking, she probably would've choked.

“Don't worry about it,” Marinette insisted, warmth flooding her cheeks as she remembered distinctly how paranoid and guilty she'd felt for the following days after it. From the way that no one had questioned her, she assumed that she'd gotten away with it. “I shouldn't have initiated it.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “That's not what I—”

Marinette interrupted him by shaking her head and pointing out, “There's cameras in the hallway, Adrien. I could've lost my job.”

“Oh,” he murmured, leaning back to rest against the chair, the intelligent reply being all there was hanging between them for some moments.

She watched as he reached up and fiddled with his hair, a self-conscious move that he never did while dancing, firmly averting her eyes and purposely taking a sip to avoid looking at the exposed skin of his neck.

“Are you sure we're friends?” Adrien questioned, voice soft and barely audible over the murmur of other voices and music.

Her eyes flickered up to meet his. “What do you mean?”

They could've been—they _were_ in the previous months. Ever since they'd exchanged numbers, she'd barely seen him outside of the times that he'd been partially dressed, as the blond-haired male had avoided her at her workplace, and they'd never set up a meeting outside of the party that they were attending. There wasn't much to a friendship where she only saw the other every couple of weeks, not long enough to make lasting conversation that she'd remember.

“You didn't stay,” he admitted, resting his chin on his open palm as he looked at her, lips curled into a small frown.

It took her a moment to realise that he meant the time at his house. “I-I mentioned before that I usually try and nap before my shift at the nightclub, so that's why I left.”

His expression twisted with confusion. “You could've slept at mine.”

“Oh.” She wetted her lips. “I didn't realise that was an option.”

“Why wouldn't it be?” Adrien questioned, sounding as curious as he regarded her illuminated by the bright-coloured lights—she was able to see them shining in his eyes. “Did—did you really think I'd just kick you out afterwards?”

She shrugged, hands still clutching onto her glass, otherwise she would've been gripping onto her skirt. “I've never really done,” Marinette started, indicating towards him with her chin to emphasise her point, “this before, so I wasn't sure.”

“I'm not that cold, I promise,” he admitted, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt of the arm that was keeping his head up. “I didn't want to give that impression. You said about Alya giving you a hot drink before, so I thought you'd like that.”

The awkward atmosphere between them wasn't decreasing much. “It kind of seemed like a sign to leave when I came back to the bedroom empty,” the dark-haired female confessed, averting her eyes to stare down at the liquid in her glass as her hands became clammy from more than the condensation. “I'm sorry for assuming.”

“I should apologise for giving you mixed signals without realising it.” He breathed out audibly slow. “Are we okay, then?”

Glancing up to look at him, Marinette's lips curled into a small smile. “Yes.”

“You're sure?” he questioned, a lopsided grin which only showed one dimple appearing. “Your co-workers keep giving me really alcoholic drinks—it's like they don't know me at all.”

She snorted. “They know you as Blondie because of your lewd adventures.”

“Hey, that's offensive,” Adrien replied, voice breathy from his laughter. “I've never been caught and thrown out for indecent behaviour; that's pretty much a medal of honour at this rate.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Really,” he insisted, hands falling onto his thighs as he leaned back. “Even Max has been kicked out before, but not me. I'm the angel of this group.”

Max had seemed so sweet, though. Then again, she had seen strangers throwing up relentlessly in the bathrooms, therefore causing them to be escorted out by security due to the disruption.

Trying not to laugh, Marinette asked, “I thought this wasn't classed as a gang?”

“No one can convince me otherwise,” he deadpanned.

They were more natural after that. Some of the guests she'd been introduced to when she walked in came over to chat, enthusiastically greeting Adrien who hadn't moved from the seat since he'd sat down in the beginning, and when Alya sauntered over and draped herself over Adrien's shoulders, there were more than a few people laughing. It had a nice atmosphere despite the increasing levels of intoxication all around.

Marinette excused herself to find a drink after she'd been holding on to an empty glass for long enough for someone to offer to get one for her. She'd politely declined, having learned not to trust those she didn't know in university to know her preference, and she wisely kept it to herself that she was capable of mixing drinks well, as the last party she'd went to had ended up with her acting as the bartender despite the fact that it was her day off.

She sipped at the water from the quiet of the kitchen, glad that she wasn't feeling overwhelmed from meeting too many new people. They were friendly, at least, and not snubbing her unintentionally due to the unfamiliarity.

Other than the subtle music—that was on low outside, not to disturb the neighbours—she was enjoying the silence before Adrien appeared through the door, looking surprised to see her there. “Aren't you going back outside?”

She shrugged half-heartedly. “I'm tempted to go home and have an early night, honestly.”

He laughed. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three,” Marinette admitted with a smile. “I just really like sleep.”

“Oh, really?” he questioned, tilting his head slightly to the side. “That's close to a lot of us—we grew up together.”

The dark-haired female nodded. It turned out that Adrien was a few months older than her, and therefore twenty-four, and she was the youngest that had arrived to the party, while the other ages ranged between twenty-three and early thirties. It was a clique that they'd formed throughout the years, apparently, and Adrien was able to tell her inside jokes and stories of silly situations that had happened through the years—especially the one of how Max had found himself kicked out of a nightclub.

She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her laughter. “ _Really_?”

Adrien's grin showed his dimples. “Oh, yes.”

It wasn't clear when it happened. One moment they were talking casually, leaning against the countertops as they took sips of their drinks between laughter, and the next they were walking slowly up the wooden stairs, trying not to make too much noise. Through the heated kisses—that she hadn't intended to do at all, really—Adrien directed them to the guest bedroom, quickly shutting the door behind them, the lights flicked on to illuminate the minimal decorations within the room.

Marinette had enough sense to pull away with a gasp and say, “We can't have sex in their bed.”

“If we're being technical, it's not _their_ bed,” the blond-haired male murmured, applying kisses across the exposed flesh of her neck, causing her to squirm from the feeling. “That wasn't my intention for bringing you in here, though.”

Reaching up to caress his hair as he sucked gently on her skin, Marinette questioned, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” One more kiss was placed against her neck, his breath tickling her from where it was wet from the contact, and he pulled away so she was able to see his grin. “Let me make it up to you about—about before, I mean.”

She didn't protest as he gestured for her to sit on the desk instead of the pristinely made bed—that would make her feel guilty about using—and she looped her arms around his neck as he moved to stand between her parted legs, bare thighs touching the material of his trousers as he leaned down to kiss her once more.

Marinette hummed in appreciation as it deepened and his hand cupped her jaw for a moment, his thumb briefly caressing her skin in an intimate way before it was gone, trailing down her body and smoothing over her tight dress, stopping on her hips as his fingers curled around the fabric. She shifted closer to the edge, feet not touching the floor due to the height, and pulled him closer so she was able to feel him pressed against her.

With an audible breath, Adrien broke the kiss, gazing at her with barely disguised desire as he pointed out, “That also wasn't my intention.”

Raising her eyebrows, she asked in amusement, “You didn't intend to move closer to me?”

“No, I—not like _that_.” Adrien grinned, the hands that were settled on her hips moved lower, stroking over her backside. “I wanted to do something for you.”

“Past tense?” she questioned innocently, making sure her thighs were still parted around him.

She watched his neck as he swallowed. “Still very much present tense,” the blond admitted, gaze roaming over her body in appreciation, a welcome development, rather than the shy looks that she received when they'd been sat outside. “Will you let me?”

She wetted her lips.

“Of course,” Marinette murmured, scooting towards the edge so she could put her feet on the ground for a moment.

Reaching beneath her dress for her underwear, Marinette slowly pulled it off, allowing the fabric to fall to the floor below them before she sat back down on the edge of the desk. The dress pushed up between her hips, allowing him a view of her pale skin, and it was a matter of seconds before his hands were smoothing over the flesh of her thighs and he was pressing kisses to the column of her throat again.

Marinette closed her eyes as the kisses darted lower, peppered across her chest, the tops of her breasts teasingly, before his hands parted her legs further as he kneeled on the floor in front of her, the soft lips kissing her exposed thighs softly. It was intimate and trusting all at once; Adrien had never done anything without her permission, and that was so endearing and attractive when paired with his bright personality, even more so when she was able to appreciate his body, too.

The first kiss was applied beside her cleft. As one of his hands touched the sensitive skin of her thigh, his mouth enveloped her arousal in a teasing fashion, pressure and contact applied sparingly before he moved, not quite fully committing until she made a noise of frustration. She could feel him smile against her, and then his lips surrounded her protrusion and _sucked—_

She wound her fingers through his hair freely, not caring about the mess that there would be after she was done, and she breathed heavily as his tongue darted out, pleasing her without restraint any more. It was a thrilling contrast of sensations; her shifting her hips to meet his movements, quiet moans escaping as he caused the spiralling heat between her legs to respond to him, the arousal she was feeling almost maddening.

The feel of his breath against her skin, the wetness that was being applied and breathed upon, caused shivers to run through her, and as a finger entered her as he purposely sucked on the sensitive nub, the sound that escaped her was loud. Marinette moved erratically, squirming upon the desk and attempting to move closer, her hands twisting in his hair tightly as she tried not to pull him towards her. Soon, a second digit joined the first, lazily scissoring her as he smothered her with attention, the wet sounds drowned out by her harsh breaths and moans.

Marinette's pleasure peaked with a choked noise. She shuddered against him, muscles clenching as one of her legs rested on his shoulder as she took in quick and loud breaths.

When she'd recovered enough to open her eyes, she glanced down to see him pulling away, eyes closed as he licked his lips. Marinette pushed the damp hair away from her face, legs relaxing against the desk as she breathed out slowly, unsure on what to say.

Adrien stood up and stretched, his eyes still shut as he lifted his arms above his head. His arousal was clear from the folds of his trousers, but from the way that he'd taken a step back, it was clear that he wasn't intending to do anything about it.

“Are you sure that's all you want?” Marinette asked softly, pushing her dress down so it covered her from the chill of the air caressing her wet skin.

He hummed, eyes cracking open to reveal the green-coloured irides as he smiled sincerely. “As you said, we can't have sex in their bed.”

As she put one of her feet on the ground, she could feel her underwear on the floor. “We could in yours, though.”

“That does sound tempting,” Adrien agreed, offering a hand out to her that she accepted, helping to pull her to stand up properly. He leaned down and collected the underwear that she was standing on, placing it into the hand he'd held as he placed a kiss on her cheek and said, “But you have an early night calling to you.”

“Okay, fine,” Marinette caved in easily, stepping into her clothing and pulling it on. “I'll see you another time, then. Have fun waiting for _that_ to go down.”

His laughter was audible as she left the room and started to descend the staircase.

-x-

The night after, Marinette worked up the courage to message him. It was just a casual question, not her asking him to meet up for sex as their previous communication with the device had been, but she was still nervous.

The reply came a few minutes later.

It escalated from there; they spoke about anything and everything, even silly topics that shouldn't have had her laughing at them, but they did. Marinette checked her cell phone within her free time, even during her breaks at work—the both of them—to see what he was doing. Adrien was more than happy to tell her about the happenings of his life, describing his day and what he was doing without needing much prompting (that was how she read a whole rant about the television show he was watching).

Marinette might have avoided Alya's eyes guiltily the next time she saw her in the morning, but nothing was ever mentioned. No one had wandered up to use the toilet and heard her moans, thankfully.

From the way Adrien was able to know what time she finished from her work at the pâtisserie, to sending her a message to wake up to eat dinner before her shift at the nightclub, it was as though they'd been talking a long time, rather than a few days. Marinette returned the favour by sending him multiple messages in the mornings to wake him up, something that Alya remarked on after a few days, saying that the blond-haired male had turned up earlier and less grouchy from the morning than usual.

She received dumb jokes to cheer her up when she was tired, and she sent him pictures of food whenever he couldn't decide on what to eat, which only spurred him to groan that he was too lazy to make anything fancy.

When she saw a cat lazing in the sun outside and her first reaction was to send a picture to Adrien, she wondered when her feelings had developed into attachment.

The excited message she got in return made her smile widely.

She spent her day off lazing around her apartment with Alya perched on her sofa, idly searching through her cell phone and messaging Adrien as they waited for the introduction of their television show to end, as they were too lazy to reach for the controls and manually skip it. Marinette had retrieved leftovers from her parents' store, and Alya had blessed her by bringing around some small bottles of syrups for their drinks, ones that she was trying out to see whether to buy for the café.

“It's starting,” the red-head called, reaching out with her sock-clad foot to prod at Marinette's shoulder.

She blinked. “That was quick.”

“You were too busy smiling at your phone to pay attention to the mournful music and repetitive opening,” Alya pointed out, pushing her spectacles up the bridge of her nose. “Now, tell whoever it is you're talking to that you're busy because I'm pretty sure someone's dying this episode, and if you miss that, I'll probably hit you.”

Childishly, she stuck her tongue out while complying to the demand.

Adrien laughed when they spoke on the phone that evening. He explained that she'd always been like that, and relentless when watching anything together with a group, hitting those that spoke too often with a pillow so they'd quiet down for the rest of them to hear what was being said. That was why Nino preferred to go to the cinema with her, as the temptations of conversation were lessened.

Which was how she found herself a week later, meeting Adrien, Alya, Nino, and two others—that she hadn't spoken to much at the party—on the front steps outside of the cinema that was located in the middle between all of them. She'd made the wise idea of wearing tight jeans, so when she tried to get comfortable on the already small seat, the waistband dug into her in an annoying way. Marinette wound up curling one of her legs underneath the other on the seat, shoe pressing against Adrien's thighs from where she was moving.

“Sorry,” she whispered through the opening advertisements.

He smiled back. “It's fine. You can lean on the armrest between us, if you want.”

“Oh, thanks,” the dark-haired female accepted easily, shifting her body so she wasn't too close to the the seatmate beside her, resting her chin on her open palm as her arm brushed against his shoulder due to their position. “Sure this is okay?”

Leaning back to be comfortable himself, Adrien assured her, “Yes, don't worry.”

When the film started, they made the wise decision not to talk any more. When the group sitting in front of them chattered after an exciting scene, though, Alya promptly tapped them on the shoulder and demanded that they shut up, which caused Marinette to muffle her laughter into the jacket that she'd draped over her to act as a blanket.

They went to a nearby restaurant after, ordering different dishes to share and splitting the cost between the six of them. Marinette acquired the numbers of the other two with the promise of meeting up in the future, and she parted with her cheeks hurting from smiling.

When she'd sat down in her car, ready to leave, Adrien had sent her a message whether she wanted to stay over at his home for the evening, as she didn't have to work at the nightclub. It was the first mention of the other side of their relationship since they'd started talking as friends again, and she didn't dismiss the idea immediately.

The budding feelings she'd developed for him had her sending an affirmative response, and she parked her car beside his small home before long, fingertips tapping against the steering wheel the duration of the drive. She smoothed out her hair in the mirror, primping unnecessarily since they'd seen each other barely half an hour before, and when she deemed her appearance satisfactory, she knocked on the front door.

Adrien invited her inside with a bright smile, and tucked their shoes away to clear the doorway. Rather than sitting down on the sofa as they'd done the first time she'd visited, Marinette knitted her fingers through his, holding his hand with a squeeze as she grinned back, nose brushing against his as she stood on her toes to reach his height.

As his hand smoothed over her hair, cupping the bottom of her head as he lowered himself so she could stand properly, a considerate move since her neck would start to hurt after a few minutes. Marinette applied pressure to his lips, humming in appreciation as he reciprocated easily, no protest from the abruptness of her actions.

The hand holding hers squeezed back as their tongues met, and she could feel the arousal stirring within her, the pulse between her legs becoming apparent from their actions. Adrien was most likely feeling much the same, and when she pulled away and took in the state of his reddened lips that were purely her doing, her own pulled into a smug grin as she boldly tugged him towards the staircase with her intentions clear.

He didn't protest. Adrien didn't let go of her hand until they were within his bedroom—where he chose to turn on the lamps, rather than the large light on the ceiling—and as he was busy with that, Marinette shrugged off her jacket, folding it up to place on the frame of the bed, and then worked on taking off her tight jeans.

Adrien laughed when he saw her with the material bunched up around her ankles as she sat on the edge of the bed, pulling them off with a frustration expression.

“Don't laugh,” she scolded, shooting him a narrowed-eyed glare. “I'm saving you the trouble of doing this.”

“Oh, right.” Adrien's voice shook from restraining his amusement as he replied, “Thank you, Marinette, you're so considerate.”

She huffed. “As payment, I'd appreciate it if you stripped, too.”

“I can do that,” the blond-haired male agreed, chortles causing him to stutter at first.

As her jeans were placed on the frame, along with her shirt, Adrien made quick work of his own clothing (he hadn't made the choice of fashion over comfortableness, which was wise). She stood up and ran a hand over his chest in appreciation, eyes flickering down to the noticeable strain on his underwear that was visible already.

“It's not nice to look amused while seducing me, you know,” Adrien quipped, arms wrapping around her waist to pull her closer, making it so their bodies were pressing against each other. She could feel the heat of his naked skin, the material of his underwear, and the clear state of his arousal. “Some would say it's offensive, actually.”

Her gaze flickered up to meet his. “I'm _appreciating_ you.”

“I'm only nice to look at, is that it?” he mused, nose touching hers lightly.

She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. “You're pretty nice to talk to, too,” Marinette admitted begrudgingly, a lopsided smile on her lips. “I won't compliment you any more since I don't want your ego is grow out of control.”

Pushing his hips towards her, making his arousal more pronounced, he murmured, “Really?”

“Yes.” She hummed, placing kisses across his jawline teasingly as he'd done to her in the past, teeth scraping across the skin at times. “Otherwise you probably won't give me any attention.”

“That's a bit hard to do when you look like this,” Adrien whispered lowly, tilting his head back to allow her more access to the skin.

When the rest of their clothing fell onto the floor, after kisses had been peppered in most places and attention had been given to her breasts until she'd groaned in frustration from the building impatience due to the dampness between her legs, Marinette was pleasantly pleased when he rested his back against the covered duvet, allowing her to crawl on top of him. She straddled him with ease, legs on either side of his thighs and her hair tickling his skin as she leaned forward and placed warm kisses on his lips from her eagerness.

Adrien's hand glided over her hips and backside, tracing soothing patterns into her exposed flesh as she slid her tongue languidly across his lower lip and used one hand to prop herself up, while the other went between her legs. Marinette tentatively slid a finger into herself as they kissed, the intrusion made easier by the wetness that had appeared there.

The rhythm she'd started was sloppy, never quite consistent as she moved and added a second finger, and it was only as his hand trailed over the sensitive part of her thighs and he released a moan that was muffled between his lips that it occurred to her that he'd realised what she was doing. The clear message that he was turned on about her actions spurred her on, and their kiss grew somewhat lazy as she focused more on her fingers, the wet sounds of her actions filling the silence that had been otherwise occupied by their mingled breaths.

Marinette stopped abruptly, panting against his swollen lips as her eyes flickered open.

Adrien's smile was almost blinding when he looked at her. With a chaste kiss applied to her lips, he reached over to the bedside drawer, revealing a foil package that she took from his hand. She moved back on his thighs, allowing room for her to see his arousal clearly as she covered him, and once he was prepared she shifted her weight to her knees to push herself up.

With one hand guiding his member, Marinette settled down slowly on him, the warmth of his skin welcoming as her body started to grow accustomed to him inside her, the action not hurting as much as it could've if she'd been impatient. She closed her eyes as she took in a breath, making sure he was fully situated inside her with a quick shift of her hips that caused a sharp gasp to escape him.

His fingers brushed against the skin of her backside and hips, smoothing over it as she became comfortable. Marinette lifted herself slowly, making it so only the tip was within her before sinking back down with an audible breath. Her hands settled on his chest as she sat upright, and as started off slowly to test the position, she grinned as she noticed that his eyes were already closed.

Her eyes fell shut as Adrien shifted his hips to meet her, making the connecting thrusts deeper and more enjoyable, and his fingernails curled into her skin as he helped her with her own movements. She relished in the sounds that escaped him, knowing that she was making the same desperate noises. Eventually, Marinette adjusted herself so when she moved, he happened to give attention to her protrusion, too, without realising it.

Choked moans escaped her as the sensations were building and her pulse was humming demandingly. It was his voice that startled her enough for her to stop moving.

“Will you go on a date with me?” Adrien questioned, sounding breathless and content all at once.

She opened her eyes, blinking rapidly. “What?”

Even without the light from the lamp, she would've been able to tell that his eyes hadn't opened. Yet, despite that, a fond smile had curved on his lips as his fingertips brushed against her skin gently, a direct contrast to the tight hold he'd had on her hips previously.

“You—will you go on a date with me?” the blond repeated, stumbling slightly. His cheeks were already coloured a shade of red, so she wasn't able to tell whether he was embarrassed about it or not.

She watched as his tongue darted out to wetten his lips.

Marinette moved one of her hands from his chest to rest beside him on the bed, allowing her to lower herself so she could feel his breath against her skin. The change of position had caused for him to open his eyes to look at her—and he was _surprised_ , that was what she could tell from the widening of them, and how his lips parted silently, no words escaping him as he took in her expression.

It was sure to be fond, for she knew of the affection that had grown for him; for the silly jokes he told to cheer her up, the constant messages that she received all day, and the charming personality that she'd come to know. She couldn't connect anything of it to the disaster of Blondie that she'd heard about—Adrien hadn't uttered one pick-up line to her throughout the duration of their casual relationship. Then again, it wasn't as though he'd needed it.

Tucking the stray hairs behind her ear, Marinette asked softly, “You want to date me?”

“Isn't it obvious?” His dimples showed as he smiled.

“Not really.” She shrugged half-heartedly, hand falling back down onto his bare chest in an intimate way. It wasn't the type of position they should've been on while discussing first dates, but she supposed that it suited them. “I-I thought this was all you wanted, to be honest.”

If he hadn't been holding onto her, she knew that he would've dramatically clutched at his chest. Adrien settled with looking comically offended instead, opening his mouth wide with a gasp. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“We've established before that I'm good at misunderstanding you,” she pointed out, narrowing her eyes playfully. “We've only really seen each other for sex for about four months now.”

Adrien raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Are you trying to tell me you didn't recognise my pining?”

“ _Pining_?” she repeated, surprised by the use of the word.

“I sat with you all evening at Alya's,” he pointed out, laughing afterwards. “And even beside you the whole time today.”

She hastily tried to explain, “But we were beside two couples—why wouldn't you sit beside me?”

“Marinette, Nino and Alya knew as soon as I went downstairs that we'd been together at their party,” he admitted sheepishly. “They just didn't mention anything so you wouldn't be embarrassed. They're nice like that.”

With a groan, Marinette muttered, “This really isn't how I'd like to have this conversation.”

“Oh?” Adrien purposely shifted his hips, causing her to gasp from the reaction of her body. “And why is that?”

And with that said, one of the hands that had been on her hips went to her neck, pulling her closer so their lips connected, a softer kiss that they'd ever had before. It was innocent and sweet, the opposite of the teasing rhythm that he'd started with his hips—that she was responding to, moving to meet his lazy thrusts on instinct—one that would've been fitting for a first, especially when their teeth clashed from her adjusting her body to get a better position.

She pulled away to rest her head within the crook of her neck, feeling the warmth of his shoulder. There was no worry of her hair hitting him when they were like that, and the angle had her turning so her sounds were muffled by his skin. Her breaths were coming out as a mixture of choked moans and gasps, eyes clenched shut from the pleasure, and every time she heard him react in a similar way, it caused the already demanding pulse between her legs to react in response.

The muscles of her legs were protesting the position that she'd been in for too long, but the feel of his nails in her skin as they moved, and the pleasure that was building, was more than enough to influence her to continue. The added friction to her sensitive nub was pleasurable, a sensation she hadn't received when they'd found themselves in the bathroom at her work, and the slick sound of their skin hitting was already familiar and welcome to her.

She finished with a gasp, the rest of her weight falling upon his chest as her muscles clenched, and it was after a few desperate thrusts that he followed, too. Marinette had sucked in a deep breath as he released a choked moan, shuddering underneath her. She tried not to move too quickly as she placed a kiss to his jawline, an intimate move that she hadn't done their previous times.

After a little time had passed, Marinette pulled herself off of him slowly, trying not to irritate his sensitive skin with abrupt movements, and sat down on the bed beside him.

Adrien's cheeks were coloured red, his hair was mused and sticking out in random directions at the sides, but the curve of his lips was unmistakable.

Marinette grinned from seeing it as her hand cupped his cheek, fingertips caressing the skin as she murmured, “I'll go on a date with you.”

“Really?” he asked, sounded enthusiastic despite the way he was still on his back.

“Yes,” she agreed, releasing a audible breath of amusement. “If you open your eyes and look at me.”

The reaction she'd been expecting wasn't for him to stiffen beneath her touch—she could feel it, the way he jumped slightly as his smile decreased. It was such a strange thing to see that her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, wondering whether she'd said the wrong thing. It had just been a detail that she'd notice over their time together; she didn't believe that it was due to her appearance that he was doing it, but rather from a force of habit that he'd grown used to, or a preference. Either way, she'd only intended for him to look at her so she could clearly see the smile reach his eyes.

Befuddled, she called softly, “Adrien?”

He shook his head, snapping himself out of brief moment of surprise, and sat up as he said, “Right, okay. I can do that.”

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked, concern seeping into her voice as her hand hovered awkwardly, unsure whether to touch him in a comforting way or not. She settled on placing them on her thighs, surely looking confused when he met her gaze.

“I'm fine, really,” he assured her, running a hand through his hair for a moment. The smile met his eyes—a sign that he wasn't forcing it—but she was still dubious from his reaction. “Let me just clean up quickly, okay?”

Even though she was still confused, she didn't push him for any answers. They took it in turns to go to the bathroom, and when she came back, Adrien was occupied by the illuminated screen of his cell phone. The pillows that had been flattened by their activities had been corrected, a small detail that brought a smile to her lips.

It was a bit awkward trying to get comfortable in an unfamiliar bed, but it was okay. Adrien rambled when he first noticed her, explaining about his allergy to feathers—which resulted in him spending a lot of time looking for bedding—and he'd even went on to ask her opinions on his pillows, questioning whether he needed to fetch the spare ones that he kept away. He even asked whether she was okay with sharing a bed, apologising for his home being too small, so he didn't have a guest room.

Adrien didn't talk in his sleep, snore, or grumble underneath his breath when he was woken up by her fidgeting. The only thing that happened was him stealing a lot of the duvet to bundle himself up in it halfway through the night, and all she'd done was shift closer to him since she was too tired to try and pry it from him.

When she woke up alone in the morning to the alarm of her cell phone, the usual one that she set to give her enough time to shower and make it to her parents', she was surprised more than anything that the blond-haired male had been able to wake up before her. She'd become used to being the one to message him awake in the mornings.

“Adrien?” she called out, wondering whether he was in the bathroom.

The colourful note on the bedside table made her laugh. It was him assuring her that he hadn't left, and wasn't indicating for her to leave either, and that he was downstairs waiting for her.

There was also a disposable toothbrush in the bathroom for her when she got in there, the same bright note attached to it.

After redressing in the tight jeans and t-shirt, folding her jacket and placing it into her bag for safekeeping as she placed by the bottom of the stairs, Marinette wandered into the kitchen to see that he'd made breakfast for the both of them, including two steaming mugs—what he'd been trying to do the first time.

“Oh,” she remarked in surprise, having not expected it.

Adrien visibly perked up as he noticed her appearance. “Hey, morning,” he greeted her, gesturing with a hand to one of the stools to sit down, as he didn't own a dining table.

He was wearing loose trousers and a long-sleeved t-shirt that he'd pushed up to his elbows, looking comfortable and more casual than she'd seen him before. A stark comparison to the tight and fashionable clothing that she was wearing, but she envied him as she felt the material digging into her knees as she sat down.

“You're up early,” she pointed out non-nonchalantly, taking a sip from the mug as she tried not to make a big deal of it. It contradicted almost everything about it, but it was nice surprise not to have to wake him up on her way out. “Did I sleep through an alarm?”

He laughed as a plate was set in front of her. “No, I just wake up early sometimes. It happens rarely, so you're still my designated alarm, don't worry.”

Humming, Marinette picked up the cutlery offered by the bright-coloured handle. A lot of his belongings were colourful and mismatched rather than patterned. They ate while talking between bites, causing her second alarm to go off across the room, warning her that she had ten minutes to arrive at the store before it opened.

She offered him an apologetic smile after she finished her drink.

“I had a good time, thank you,” Marinette told him shyly as he walked her to the door. She fiddled with the strap of her bag, uncertain of how to say good-bye with the shift in their relationship.

Adrien solved any of her worries by placing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Have a good day, Marinette.”

There was warmth in her cheeks as she walked away.

-x-

There wasn't anything noticeably different in how Alya was interacting with her. She hadn't forgotten that Adrien had mentioned that the red-head and her boyfriend knew of their activities in their home, but there had been no complaints or offhanded comments about Adrien—absolutely nothing to make her come to the conclusion that her friend knew about it.

So, when Marinette had finished her drink after delivering the goods as per usual—a task that her father was more than happy for her to continue without any complaints—she decided it was time to act.

She wasn't exactly subtle, though.

“I didn't have sex with Adrien in your bed, I swear,” she blurted.

Alya promptly choked.

“I'm so sorry!” the dark-haired female cried out, hurriedly standing up and patting her on the back, the colouring of her face from embarrassment paling in comparison to Alya's sudden complexion.

Once Alya had finished coughing and recovered from the sudden fit, the red-head burst into honest and breathy laughter, a drastic contrast to the noises that had been there only a minute away. She was trying to talk through her chortles, but it was too incoherent for her to understand properly as Alya wrapped her arms around her middle, resting her head on the cool table as she laughed.

“It's not that funny,” Marinette muttered, sitting back down opposite her.

Alya snorted. “Oh, it is.”

“I just—I was feeling guilty, okay! I didn't want you to think I was being so disrespectful in your home after you were kind enough to invite me over,” Marinette babbled, hands moving to emphasise her words as she talked.

When it reminded her of the time Adrien had accidentally hit someone while she was working, she folded her hands in her lap in embarrassment. It was another time that her mind had immediately made a connection, much like when she'd seen the cat on the street and thought of him first. And yet, there she was in front of someone she considered to be one of her closest friends after only knowing each other a few months, trying to defend her relationship with him—well, her actions.

Pushing her spectacles up the bridge of her nose, Alya casually mentioned, “I don't think anyone's had sex in that bed, actually.”

She gawked at her.

“Oh, come on,” Alya said with her grin showing her white teeth. “You two are absolutely obvious. We've been rooting for you two behind your backs since Nino mentioned this new bartender that kept Adrien busy.”

“Are we really that bad?” she asked quietly, leaning back in her chair.

Alya laughed. “Kind of? I didn't realise anything was actually _happening_ until Adrien came downstairs after you left my house that one evening.”

She told herself not to ask whether he came downstairs with an erection, though that was what her mind latched onto immediately. “What gave us away?” Marinette asked instead.

“You can't tell me you haven't noticed that he gets really hyperactive after sex, can you?” Alya raised her eyebrows, making them visible above the frame of her glasses. “He doesn't shut up afterwards, and it lasts for a few hours. Nino and I learned over the years to just hum or something similar, and he goes on and on about _anything_ —he's always been like that.”

Now that she'd mentioned it, she guess she could see it. Other than the way he kept his eyes closed for a while afterwards, Marinette hadn't paid much attention to his ramblings; whether they had been about the bedding or another topic, she'd assumed that it was normal for him, due to how much they spoke during the past few weeks.

“We're not dating,” she blurted. Her eyes widened from her bluntness, colour flooding her face from Alya's smirk, and she quickly corrected herself to say, “Well, maybe? I mean, he asked me on a date yesterday, but we haven't actually decided when.”

Looking amused at the words, Alya replied, “I'm not your mother, Marinette. You don't need to explain yourself to me.”

“Yeah, I-I just feel the need to because you told him about not treating me like the others,” the dark-haired female mumbled, running a nervous hand through her hair. “I should get going, though. Thanks for this, as always.”

“Hey,” Alya called, catching onto her wrist so she couldn't walk away. “I didn't say that to hurt you, you know? I only meddled to see whether he'd ask you for your number himself, instead of going through me.”

The smile she showed her wasn't insincere. “It's fine, really. I've heard enough horror stories at work to know of his bad flirting techniques.”

“Girl, you haven't seen anything until he's asked you if you like water.”

Blinking in surprise, Marinette automatically responded with, “My co-worker said that, too.”

Alya's cackle as she ushered out of the door wasn't reassuring.

The pattern of Adrien messaging her in his free time continued through the week. He made sure she woke up with enough time to eat dinner before going to work, sent her short and silly videos when she couldn't respond for a few hours, and when it came to Nino's set on Friday, he was there in the nightclub, hovering by the bar to keep her company.

Lila had only raised her eyebrows at his presence that hadn't wavered since the music had began. It was like they'd been in the past; Adrien ordering a barely alcoholic drink, sometimes one with none at all, per her recommendations. He talked to her when customers had wandered off with their beverages, not wandering off to dance as he usually did after a while had passed.

When it had been over half an hour, Marinette tentatively pointed out over the loud music, “You're still here.”

His dimples showed as he smiled and replied cheekily, “Well, Nino's still playing.”

She narrowed her blue-coloured eyes. “You know that's not what I meant.”

“Yes,” Adrien agreed, fiddling with the rim of the glass with his fingertips. She hadn't taken it away for that reason—it kept him occupied, rather than drumming against the bar, as he'd accidentally knocked over someone else's order by doing that before. “I'm having more fun over here with you.”

And if his smile hadn't caused happiness to swell in her, then that answer certainly did. She was sure that the blush upon her cheeks was visible despite the dim lighting, and from the way that his grin increased, she had to assume that he'd definitely noticed it.

She huffed. “It's not fair for you to be charming while I'm trying to work.”

“Oh, right.” The blond laughed. “We can't have you getting fired now, can we?”

“I can accidentally knock drinks over onto you, though.” She glared playfully. “You better watch out.”

He held his hands up in a sign of surrender. “I'll be good, I swear.”

“Yes,” Marinette agreed, wiping the counter and swatting his fingers away from the glass so she could get the condensation beneath it. “Otherwise, I'll cancel our date tomorrow.”

Until the end of Nino's set, he stayed by the bar. When he left since Nino was his ride, Adrien leaned across and kissed her briefly on the cheek before darting through the crowd, and she was left to endure the whistles from her co-workers who'd witnessed the scene. She rolled her eyes at it good-heartedly, not replying to their teasing in the slightest, though she did have a smile on her lips for the duration of her shift.

She woke him up per usual the next morning, and received a message in turn to wear casual clothing—something that was appropriate for wearing out in public, which had her rolling her eyes fondly. Marinette settled on a skirt and a long-sleeved sweater that would nullify the need for a jacket, pulling the hair by the crown of her head into a small ponytail.

As he'd never been to her apartment, Adrien insisted that it was only fair that he got to see where she lived while picking her up. She put up no protests to that, so just after noon, she climbed into his vehicle and inspected the charms that were hanging from the mirror above, including an air freshener that was a ridiculous shape.

“I hope you don't have too high expectations,” Adrien remarked as he refused to tell her where they were going. The only hint she'd gotten was that they'd be in front of others, and she'd deduced that they weren't going out for dinner as most dates seemed to be due to the time of day. “I'm aiming to surprise you here.”

She was definitely surprised when it turned out that they were going bowling.

They got their shoes at the front desk, and were directed to a free lane inside the busy place. Children were running around, some screaming from the section where the arcade was located, and families were gathered in the small café that was in the corner, offering a small selection of food that had the choice of being delivered to their lane.

She raised her eyebrows at him as he input their names. “Do you take all your dates here?”

“No.” Adrien laughed, an honest sound that made her smile. “I just wanted—well, this way we're obligated to keep it safe for the eyes of children, right?”

A choked laugh escaped her. “There's still a bathroom I could drag you to.”

“Absolutely not, there's cameras, Marinette,” he scolded, pointing an accusing finger at her. “I just want to show you that I care about doing more things with you than _that_.”

Forcing a gasp, she exclaimed, “Oh, _that_.”

“Think of the children and pick some different balls to play with for this afternoon,” Adrien deadpanned, barely holding in his laughter towards the end of the sentence.

After a moment of pressing his lips together, he burst into laughter with her, the volume of it louder than the music that was playing through the establishment. They settled down after that, and she found out that he was not deterred by her competitive streak, nor the playful taunts that she tended to slip into; if anything, Adrien was encouraging them with the cocky grins that he sent her way after he'd played his turn, even more so when he was in the lead.

They shared each other's drinks throughout the rounds, using up their allotted time as the other customers around them filtered out and were replaced. Marinette's shriek of excitement when she won echoed throughout their section, causing others to look her way in an accusatory manner, but all that mattered was the exaggerated groan of defeat that Adrien released as he sat down on the seat.

When they were walking back to his car, she begrudgingly admitted, “Okay, that was a pretty good pick for a date. I'm sorry for judging you.”

“I'll forgive you this time,” Adrien replied, amused. “As much as I'd like to invite you back to mine, I'm going to take you home now.”

“Oh.” She blinked, surprised. “Have you already got plans for tonight?”

There was no attempt from him to open the door for her. He wasn't going out of her way to impress her, nor did he arrive with a bouquet of flowers in his hands; Adrien was simply being himself, and that was what made it enjoyable to spend time with him. And because of that, Marinette managed to convince him to park by a café for them to go inside together, convincing him by insisting it was a public place and that it would continue the rule of being innocent from the bowling alley.

The way he stared flatly at the sign of the shop she'd directed him to made he laugh.

His accusatory gaze turned to her. “You want me to give money to our biggest competitor.”

“No,” she replied, grinning widely as she placed a hand in his and tugged him towards the door. There was no protest to his body moving despite his words. “I want to give _my_ money to them and see whether you're going to nitpick their products and compare them to yours.”

As it turned out, he was begrudging that what she'd ordered for the two of them tasted nice. The competitiveness that had been there while they were playing was gone, and he leaned back in the chair and deflated across from her as he admitted that he'd never actually been inside, not after starting his own café with Alya. The two of them had known each other since they were little kids, and decided to plan for their idea when they were in college, saving up with part-time jobs and dipping their toes in various careers for a few months.

“I'm glad you succeeded,” Marinette admitted as she cradled the warm mug in her hands. “It's a nice shop. Whoever did the decorating has a nice eye.”

He winked at her. “You're forgetting it sells pretty good food, too.”

She grinned from the compliment for her parents' work. “About that—I know you do sandwiches and other savoury dishes that are easy, but what made you decide not to make the others yourselves?”

“Time,” Adrien admitted sheepishly, raising a hand to run through his hair quickly. “I never wake up to my alarm in the mornings, and Alya's not good at baking. We worked out that we'd still make a profit from buying them elsewhere, so that's what we did.”

“Okay, I can understand that,” Marinette agreed.

They stayed in there until the shop needed to close, sharing dessert that Marinette bought despite his protests, and by the time they'd returned to his car, her laughs were coming out breathless due to how often she'd been amused by him. There was no denying that she enjoyed herself, and it was clear from his constantly bright expression that he'd had a good time, too.

She liked him for more than his good looks; Adrien's sense of humour never failed to amuse her—whether she was laughing with or at him—and the little habits he had, such as fiddling with his hair when he was nervous, only made him seem more endearing than before. The faults that were there, that she'd come to know in their months of knowing each other, weren't ones that made her dislike him; if anything, they completed the image she had of him.

She stumbled over her words while confessing, “This—this was really nice.”

Adrien's grin reached his eyes. “I'm glad. I thought—I don't know, I just worried that you might've been put off by how innocent it was.”

“Just because I've had sex with you doesn't mean I can't enjoy doing other things with you, too,” Marinette pointed out, raising her eyebrows as he turned to look at her briefly before turning his attention back to the road as he drove. “I'm the one that thought you didn't want to do anything else, remember?”

A flustered look came across him as colour appeared on his cheeks. “I—yes,” he stuttered, embarrassed as he shifted on the spot. “This—this was more for me.”

Patiently, she didn't pressure him to say anything more than that. Although she was curious, she felt bad about the way he'd suddenly gotten flushed and surely felt awkward, something that she didn't want him to feel in her presence.

“I've never really... I don't know how to say this.” Adrien cleared his throat, clearly stalling for time while he grasped for the right words to choose. After a moment had passed, filled with only the sound of his vehicle, he continued on to admit quietly, “I've never really had sex with feelings involved?”

Somehow, she didn't splutter. Marinette blurted out instead, “ _What_?”

“I mean, other than sexual ones! Don't look at me like that,” he quickly defended himself, voice higher-pitched than usual as the words tumbled out, and the blush on the tops of his cheek deepened. “I like you, okay? I don't want to mess that up by having sex with you.”

Slowly, Marinette felt the need to point out, “You literally asked me on a date while we were having sex.”

The engine was left on while the car was stopped, and he kept his hands on the steering wheel afterwards, as a way to keep his hands occupied from nervousness, she supposed. Adrien shifted in his seat, looking uncertain and shy, and she didn't think anything of it as she reached across and gently placed her hand on top of his, holding onto her seat for balance.

“You're not going to fuck anything up by touching me, Adrien,” she whispered softly, trying to understand his point, especially since he'd been so insecure about sharing it with her. The fact that he'd admitted aloud his feelings had been enough for her in the first place. “You are aware that I return your feelings, right?”

When he turned to look at her, she gave him an encouraging smile, and seeing the momentary surprise that flickered across his face until it blossomed into to the corner of his eyes crinkling seemed worth it.

“Really,” she insisted, an audible breath escaping her as his hands loosened their hold. “I've liked you for a while, Adrien. I-I just didn't want to demand too much from you and make you uncomfortable, so I didn't say anything about it.”

His eyebrows were raised as he said, “I couldn't tell.”

An incredulous laugh escaped her. “And you couldn't believe it when I said I didn't notice your _pining_ ,” Marinette teased, using the exact word that he had in the past. “I met Alya because I was looking for you before.”

“What?” he questioned, sounding confused from the sudden shift of topic. “At—you mean at the café, right?”

“Yeah.” She didn't shy her gaze away from his, though she did allow her feet to fidget where they weren't in view. Adrien seemed to notice her shyness, as he allowed his hands to move away from the steering wheel, holding hers as he rested them on top of his thigh. “You mentioned it when we were talking one evening. After I gave you a drink, I think. I knew that you didn't know my last name, so I kind of... I asked to take over the deliveries the following week to your café, but Alya was there, not you.”

The hand that he was holding was given a squeeze, one that was familiar and comforting all at once. “That's actually kind of cute.”

She huffed, causing the loose hairs on one side of her face to move from her breath. “It was even worse when Alya realised who I was due to my father's talk of me—then, somehow, she decided to actually be my friend instead of leaving me to be mortified about our meeting for a few weeks.”

“And yet, you wouldn't give me your number?” he questioned, voice quivering from laughter towards the end.

The glare she directed towards him was half-hearted as she squeezed his fingers. “To be fair, you never actually asked for it back then. You just kept asking me to do things with you.”

“I feel awful about that _now_ ,” Adrien announced with a groan, shaking his head and causing the strands that had been on top of his ears to fall askew. “I want to do things properly with you, now that I—yeah.”

The pause was filled with the sound of him clearing his throat.

“Now that you like me,” she mused, a lopsided smile tugging to her lips as she realised that the want to talk to him hadn't been one-sided throughout the weeks. “There's no manual for dating, Adrien. I told you before that I have no right to judge you because you like sex.”

She watched as he swallowed.

“That's the thing, though,” the blond-haired male started, the hand that wasn't holding hers moving to emphasise his point as he looked at her with his brow furrowed. “I like you, and I like sex _with_ you—that's never actually happened before to me. Well, I'm not saying this right. I've never connected the two together? Does _that_ make sense?”

There was no urge to laugh at his rambling. Marinette took in the colour of his cheeks, the obviously flustered expression, and only held his hand tighter to try and convey that she understood what he was trying to say. She'd known from the beginning that he enjoyed his freedom and that her co-workers found it amusing when he attempted to flirt near them—she couldn't really understand the hilarity of that, as she hadn't witnessed his famously embarrassing lines—and the fact that he was there with her, confessing his innermost thoughts. The memory of him staying with her in the nightclub was held close to her, too, as it proved his sincerity in all of it.

She really wanted to lean over and kiss him, but she didn't.

Instead, Marinette tucked some hair behind her ear as she murmured, “We can do this however makes you comfortable, okay? If having dates in front of innocent eyes will make you happy, I'm all for it—I just want to be with you, Adrien.”

There was no noise escaping as his mouth opened and closed, clearly searching for the right words to reply as his eyes widened, but all that came out in the end was a whisper of, “Oh.”

“We can even go super slow, as though we're thirteen and absolutely lost on what to do,” Marinette suggested jokingly, pleased when a smile blossomed on his lips. She returned it as she happily exclaimed, “That's the expression I want to see!”

That only caused him to smile more.

She didn't protest when he got out of the car to walk her to the door of her apartment building. There had been the temptation to invite him inside, but after the heartfelt confession that he'd given him prior to her getting out of the vehicle, she wasn't going to push him for something he was uncertain about. She settled for kissing him on the cheek when she'd fished out her keys, and the bewildered look he'd given her after had been worth it.

“That's just teasing,” he insisted, hand reaching up to touch the place where her lips had been.

Marinette raised her eyebrows. “I'm innocent.”

“You can kiss me, you know,” Adrien replied, sounding amused as he did so. “I'm not going to combust because of it.”

With a teasingly drawn out hum, that sounded suspiciously like she was contemplating aloud, Marinette leaned back on her heels and regarded him with a smile. She watched as he crossed his arms over his chest, raising his eyebrows in return, and it was only after a few moments had passed that she gave in and slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, watching as his lips twitched from visibly trying not to smile. That caused her own lips to curl into a smug grin, even more so when she brushed her nose against his as she slowly came closer, purposely going at a teasing pace.

“You're _terrible_ ,” the blond accused fondly, hands settling on her hips as he became impatient, being the one to press their lips together.

She was sure that he could feel her smile.

It was sweet and familiar; there wasn't the clumsiness there had been for their actual first kiss, their teeth weren't clashing from their enthusiasm, and they certainly weren't alone in a private room where no one else could see them. She caressed the soft hairs of his nape, eyes falling closed with a content sigh from the pressure on her lips, the soft and sweet brushes of his mouth—it felt intimate and comfortable, something that she didn't know she'd been yearning for, other than the passionate ones that she'd started to expect from him.

There was no brush of tongues, no finger grazing naked flesh in search of pleasure, and yet it was still just as good. When she pulled away, it was with a smile and warm cheeks, the grin turning bright and proud as she saw the fond curl of his lips and the way it caused the corner of his eyes to crinkle.

As she looked into his green-coloured eyes, Marinette pointed out, “I'm pretty sure you like that about me.”

-x-

“I quit.”

Adrien had answered as soon as she'd called, even though it was late at night and she was sure that he'd been in bed. The confirmation of that thought came when he answered in a sleepy voice, “What?”

“I-I quit my job,” Marinette babbled as she sat in her car, having not put her keys in the ignition yet. There was no adrenalin, no remaining anger since there hadn't been any that had bubbled up, and she certainly wasn't crying from the loss of her job; rather, her grin was large and her words were enthusiastic, a vast contrast to how she'd thought she'd be. “I don't know, I was serving some guy and I wondered why I'm still here when I could be with you?”

“ _Me_?” he repeated, voice thick from sleep. After clearing his throat, while she stayed there huddled in her car, leaning back against the seat, Adrien tried again, “Did something happen? You—you mentioned a guy—”

Before he was able to continue that trail of thought, the dark-haired female quickly interrupted, “No, not at all! I just didn't want to stay? I went to see my boss, and she says I only have to work for two more weeks until I'm free to go.”

There was a pause of silence.

“Marinette,” he started, sounding tired once more. “It's three o'clock in the morning, and you're calling me to tell me you quit your job for no reason whatsoever.”

A laugh escaped her. “I've called you to tell you I had a bad dream before.”

Since their first date, they'd been together for two months. The constant messaging hadn't changed, not when her schedule was so busy that they barely got to see each other each week. Although her parents were more than happy to give her time off, and therefore increase their own workload, she never took them up on their offers. She stubbornly stuck with her afternoon naps, the meals that she'd eat alone in her haste and sleepy-eyed state, and it was only when she kept asking Adrien about his days that she realised that she was missing out.

He didn't complain, though. When she had a rare day off, they met up either to spend a day out or within the warmth of their homes, and it was due to that they she'd laughed until her face was red when Adrien had admitted that one of the reasons he'd been hesitant—and therefore avoided her at work—was due to the realisation that he'd never seen her home, and had assumed that there wasn't a chance of them being anything more than casual because of it.

She showed him every room of her apartment after that, not at all protesting when her underwear was left on the floor as she was lifted up onto the countertop of her kitchen.

His work hours were considered normal, so when she'd finished her shift at the pâtisserie, he worked until she woke up from her nap. It was a nice system that they'd developed together, one that had taken a couple of weeks to get right and for her to know all of the things he tended to do in his routine.

And it was from the constant contact, she was able to realise the truth that had been in Alya's words about his hyperactivity at times—or, more specifically, whenever they did anything remotely couple-like, such as hold hands for an extended amount of time or kiss, he had a bright smile afterwards and rambled when he spoke, enthusiastic and happy. Whenever they spent the night together, he'd be awake the next morning, greeting her with breakfast and a tight embrace as he whispered compliments in her ear.

After sex, he didn't seem tired, unlike her. Adrien breathing was altered, yes, but his eyes were never half-lidded from the want to curl up and sleep afterwards. He still kept to the habit of keeping them closed after they'd been intimate, seemingly when his breathing was going back under his control—something strange that he always did, but she wasn't going to complain about it, or cause him to stiffen by asking him to look at her as she'd done so in the past.

She was just happy that her feelings were turned. Alya had been overjoyed as soon as she'd found out, even stating that Marinette was doing them all a favour by having Adrien wake up early at the start of the week, making managing the café easier for the two of them because of it. Marinette had rolled her eyes at that, but still laughed along when she knew it was true, no matter how absurd it was.

“Go home and get into bed, Marinette,” Adrien chastised her, fondness clear in his tone. “Tell me all about it in the morning when you've calmed down, all right? I'll come visit you during my lunch break.”

She smiled to herself. “Deal.”

“Good-night to you,” he said with a yawn. “You can only wake me up again if you have a cool dream and need to tell me before you forget it.”

Knowing that she'd done that, too, Marinette laugh and replied, “I can do that. Go back to sleep, Adrien.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Although he hadn't been in a relationship before—she'd squeezed that out of him, one evening when they were watching a romantic film that was on the television—he was surprisingly natural about everything. Adrien wasn't trying overly hard by bringing her flowers or taking her to expensive places to impress her; instead, he stuck to being himself, choosing to do things that they were both comfortable with instead.

When he stayed around hers for the first night, she'd made sure that her pillows had no feathers in them. It was a small detail that she didn't know he'd considered before he mentioned it the next morning, the thankful and bright smile causing her to shrug as she had a mouthful of food.

She left the pâtisserie for her lunch after kissing her parents' cheeks, meeting up with Adrien halfway between them. They found a bench within a nearby park to sit down, unwrapping the food that he'd bought for the two of them to enjoy. Rather than starting straight away with wanting to know what had happened, Adrien was talking about anything and everything to get her comfortable first, and it was only after she'd almost choked on her mouthful that she'd turned to look at him with a half-hearted glare.

“Let me eat in peace and I'll tell you all about it,” Marinette offered, eyes flickering between his grin and his food. “I'll go on a passionate rant, just like you always do.”

To show that he understood, he took a slow bite.

Marinette didn't passionately dislike her job, though. She shrugged and explained between mouthfuls that she'd realised that she didn't need to dedicate all her time to working, not when it made it hard for them to spend together, let alone for her to have a normal sleeping schedule. She'd kept up the random hours for over half a year, only slightly less odd ones at the previous bar that she'd been hired by.

As he ate, he kept his promise of not talking, but she could see that he wanted to ask a question after she'd explained her reasons.

She tilted her head slightly to the side. “You can talk now. My rant wasn't as good as yours.”

“It didn't have enough passion.” He sniffed dramatically. “I just want to ask, well, why the two jobs? I'm not trying to be rude, but you're not living somewhere expensive, so your salary from one should be able to cover it.”

Nodding, Marinette flexed her fingers as she held one of her hands up to him. “I broke my hand before.”

He blinked. “Okay.”

“I failed university because of it,” she admitted quietly.

“Oh.”

Shrugging her shoulders weakly, Marinette continued as she began to pick at her food. “Yeah, I—I didn't want to put the burden on my parents of wanting to start again, so I decided to save up for when I decide on what to do with myself.”

“And that led to you working all these hours?” Adrien questioned, forgetting his own food.

“I've got a lot saved up because of it,” the dark-haired female explained with a smile. “I was studying fashion, so when I couldn't really draw or sew any more for a few months, it really fucked me over.”

He looked visibly surprised as he repeated, “Fashion.”

“Yes,” she confirmed, looking at him, bemused. “Does it not suit me or something?”

Shaking his head, a smile appeared on his lips. “No, it really suits you. The first time I saw you outside of uniform is really memorable.”

There was also the fact that she'd found out that he had a knack for remembering things; such as groceries to buy, the day of the week whereas she was confused sometimes and needed to check her cell phone, and constantly forgot the things that she'd wanted to remember for a late time. Marinette often told him the things she needed to know at a later date, and Adrien was always bemused when she asked for his help.

“That sounds like there's either a compliment in there or a terrible insult,” Marinette remarked, narrowing her eyes at him. “I don't know which to expect with you.”

“How rude,” Adrien said with a gasp, dramatically placing a hand upon his chest. “Do you really think that of me?”

She grinned. “I know you, so my answer is yes.”

“Fine,” he replied, drawing out the vowel purposely. As his hand fell back down onto the bench, Adrien continued on to say, “It was at the café? I surprised you by being there instead of Alya.”

Nodding to convey that she understood, Marinette started to eat her food again.

“You also rejected to give me your number again while you looked sleepy.”

After swallowing a mouthful, she sang, “You didn't _ask_.”

“You seem to have a big thing about asking, rather than giving out answers for free,” the blond mused, reaching out and ruffling her hair, laughing when she glared at him. “Now I get to be blessed with your sleepy face once a week, if I'm lucky.”

With her index finger, she prodded him on the chest. “Meanwhile, I wake up in the mornings alone whenever we stay together. It's like you sap the energy from me or something.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Adrien protested lightly, rolling his eyes at her. “You're just as tired as any other day—I'm not stealing anything from you. I'm basking in your affection and becoming hyperactive from it.”

Laughing, she agreed, “Yes, I'm sure that's it.”

-x-

“Hey, Adrien,” Marinette called, padding out of the bedroom of her apartment. “I have a question for you.”

Leaning back against the sofa to peer at her approaching form, Adrien replied without missing a beat, “Sure, hit me with it.”

The last time he'd said that, she'd actually thrown a pillow at him instead. The blond realised his mistake in a heartbeat, straightening himself out as he reached for a cushion for protection. She laughed at his behaviour, purposely ruffling his hair as she walked past to sit down beside him with an audible sigh.

It had been two months since she'd quit her evening job, resulting in her being able to adjust her sleeping schedule to normal, hang out with friends at a usual time rather than once every few weeks, and she was happier in the long run because of it. Although she hadn't decided what to do with herself, she took in a few more hours at the pâtisserie—to even out the numbers and match to her parents' time well—and happily overtook the deliveries to customers and other stores that stocked their food for their own needs.

They'd spent a lot of time together, staying at each other's homes throughout the week and leaving early to get to their respective responsibilities, and Marinette had bought herself another toothbrush to keep at his home while leaving a few articles of clothing over there, too. He was comfortable doing the same at her apartment, even happily accepting the empty drawer that she'd pointed out that she could use.

From their time together, Marinette's feelings had grown from liking him and blossomed. When she saw his smile reach his eyes, the indents of his cheek as he did so, or the blond bits on the end of his eyelashes when they were close, she was reminded all over again about her she felt for him. She'd smile whenever someone asked about their relationship, even more so when her parents questioned the two of them—it turned out that the one that had approached the pâtisserie about the deal in the beginning had been Adrien, and had it taken him a few weeks to convince her parents that it would profit the both of them.

“Okay, question time,” she announced, pressing her shoulder against his as she leaned on him for comfort. “Why were you crying when we met?”

He didn't flinch away from her. “I'm an emotional person.”

Tears had appeared in his eyes when he'd laughed too much, seen an adorable animal video, or a sad film while they were together, but she hadn't seen him with red-rimmed eyes and swiping at his face to rid himself of the tears as he had back then. She'd never really thought about pressuring him about it, but they told each other a lot, and it was simple curiosity that had her asking it, rather than wanting to humiliate him for it.

“I found you crying outside two times, Adrien,” Marinette reminded him, turning her head so she could look up at him which what she hoped to be a neutral expression. “You don't really have to answer me if you don't want to.”

As he made a humming sound, she could feel his chest vibrate. “I don't take rejection well?”

It came out like a question.

“Okay,” she accepted, easily understanding.

Tears tended to pool in her eyes when she was angry, and that only made her irritated further from how useless she felt with the liquid appearing and blurring her vision. If Adrien's reaction to being slapped—as he had mentioned the first time they'd met—then she wasn't going to hold it against him; if anything, she understood, as she would've been sobbing, too.

Adrien seemed surprised by it, though. “Okay—just okay, nothing else?” he questioned, curiosity clear in his tone.

“Yes.” She sat up, no longer leaning on him, and shrugged her shoulders lightly. “I don't really need to know any more? It's not like I'm telling you the horrors of my dating life.”

A laugh escaped him as he proclaimed, “It can't have been as bad as mine.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It wasn't filled with bad pick-up lines, but it was pretty awful at times.”

“I haven't used any on you!” Adrien rapidly defended himself, eyes wide and honest as he became flustered. “I—you've never _heard_ me say one, right?”

“No, not really,” Marinette replied honestly, trying to recall all of the times she'd seen him with another. The only one that came to mind was where she'd found him by the staff bathroom, back when he'd been awkwardly avoiding her. “I'm still being told that I'm missing out on some real gems.”

He coughed into his open hand. “Alya's a terrible influence on you.”

They spent their evening by ordering food to be delivered, watching different television shows and silly videos on her laptop to enjoy themselves until the late evening, as neither of them had to work the following day—she didn't disillusion herself to think that he'd stay in bed and sleep for long, as she'd had yet to wake up with Adrien asleep beside her. Sometimes, he was there on her cell phone while waiting for her to awaken naturally, while other times he fluttered around the house, greeting her energetically when she padded out with half-lidded eyes from tiredness.

As he sat on the edge of her mattress, clothes and underwear folded neatly and placed on her desk, she was kneeled in front of him, fingertips caressing the bare skin of his thighs as she licked her lips. She grasped onto his warm arousal, guiding the tip to her lips, kissing it before parting her lips and closing her eyes.

She moved her head slowly, applying suction with her lips, pleased in the moans that he released from the sudden sensations. Slowly taking in more with each bob of her head, Marinette occasionally pulled back to swallow, trailing her tongue along the edge of his member, and sometimes accidentally grazed her teeth along his flesh, which only caused him to make a noise in return.

The hands that were in her hair weren't quite demanding her to move; they were just there, holding onto her dark tresses and guiding her, rather than holding her down. It was a reassuring presence that she allowed, and she confidently took him in deeper as her throat relaxed, opening her eyes to take a peek above to see his expression.

Startled, his arousal hit the back of her throat uncomfortably, causing her to splutter and pull away as she coughed. Her vision grew blurry as she tried to relieve the lump that had appeared, gasping for breath and feeling her face reddening from the fit that had happened, and it was only as Adrien started tentatively patting her on the back that she managed to get herself under control.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she stood up on surprisingly steady legs, shock clear on her expression as she stared at him.

It shouldn't have been possible, but from the way that he was shying away from her gaze, a hand touching the nape of his neck self-consciously as he looked to the side, eyelashes covering his eyes due to the angle, it was more of a confirmation than anything else. He wouldn't have had his facial features twisted in guilt if she'd been _imagining_ it—

She watched as he swallowed.

“You saw,” Adrien whispered, voice sounded thick and heavy all at once.

Her breath caught in her throat.

There was a heavy silence between them where her heart beat rapidly in her chest, hands feeling clammy as they hung limply by her thighs, and although they were both in a similar naked state, they didn't try and cover up. Marinette sat down beside him as she took in deep breaths, purposely waiting and trying to stop herself from overreacting; all she could think of was the guilt that she'd seen on him, the furrow of his brow and the grimace that had happened, all of which had combined to become an expression that she was determined never to be comfortable with him wearing.

She placed a nervous hand on his thigh, not pulling away when he jumped.

“Adrien,” she called softly, surely as vulnerable as he was feeling. “Please, look at me.”

The tension in her shoulders didn't fade as he slowly turned to face her, the grimace still present on his face, and it was only as she noticed how his eyes were closed that she reached out with her other hand to gently cup his face, her thumb caressing the skin in what she hoped to be a soothing fashion. Although she was nervous, she knew that he had to have been feeling worse, even more so from actively hiding it for the ten months that they'd known each other.

When he opened his eyes, she didn't flinch away.

The way her own widened was the only reaction he received. Her hand didn't tense on him, nor did she pull away and recoil from the surprise. Marinette simply looked at him with slightly parted lips, amazement and shock clear on her facial features, her face acting as an open book and allowing him to know what she was thinking—it wasn't the usual way he was able to tell that she was tired, or thinking hard about a topic, but something else entirely.

The white of his sclera was gone. Instead, the viridian from his irides had bled out and covered where the white had been, making it so the eye was coloured completely in green, other than the pupil that had thinned out into a slit, one that shouldn't have been present on the human species. It was a mix that should've terrified her, should've only been present in the fantastical workings of her mind, and not in front of her featured upon the face of someone she held dear to herself.

And yet, it was there. Adrien wasn't shying away from her gaze; rather, he was staring at her with a blank expression, as though preparing himself for the worse.

She didn't want to cause his face to crumple from disappointment.

It must've taken a lot for him to face her as he was, after hiding it for months on end, adamantly keeping his eyes closed towards the end of them being intimate. Marinette had never noticed the abnormality to his eyes when they were doing casual things, not even when they were holding hands or undressing each other, and yet she was reminded of the way that he'd flinched when she'd asked him to look at her before.

A coil of guilt became apparent in her stomach, clenching uncomfortably, demanding her to acknowledge it. It wasn't as though she couldn't; she'd simply assumed that Adrien had had a strange quirk after sex, something that paled in comparison to his odd sleeping schedule.

“At least it's a nice green?” she offered tentatively, lips curling into a small and hopeful smile.

A disbelieving laugh escaped him. “That's all you have to say?” Adrien questioned softly, raising a hand to cover the one that she had on his cheek, intertwining their fingers gently.

“I'm not running away,” Marinette confessed, glad that her voice was stable. There was no stutter that she'd dreaded, nor did she ramble from the sudden nerves of wanting him to understanding her want to stay by his side. Wanting to inject a bit of humour in the suffocating atmosphere that had appeared around them, she quipped, “I know now, for sure, that you don't keep your eyes closed because I'm unattractive.”

He snorted. “ _Marinette_.”

“I'm kidding,” she defended herself, grinning.

Holding onto her hand, Adrien turned to brush his lips against her open palm, moving their hands back together as he kissed her fingers before letting them rest onto his bare thigh. The evergreen-coloured eyes continued to look at her unwaveringly, and she kept her gaze steady, peering curiously at them as she shifted closer until their thighs touched.

Peering at the consistent shade of green that covered his sclera, Marinette questioned, “Does this only happen due to sex?”

“You're supposed to be scared, not asking for the specifics of it,” the blond-haired male mumbled, brow furrowing as his confusion showed. “This is a delayed reaction due to shock, isn't it?”

She squeezed his hand. “No, it's not. I just want to know more about my boyfriend, that's all.”

“Your boyfriend who literally has glowing eyes.”

“ _Glowing_?” Marinette repeated, curiosity making her louder than before as she straightened her back, attempting to see his eyes at a different angle. “Really?”

From where she'd been on the floor, she'd only been able to see the green and had choked from surprise, and it hadn't seemed as though they were glowing at all from where they'd sat. Perhaps the lighting had something to do with it, and Adrien, of course, had more knowledge than she about his condition—

“Yes,” Adrien confirmed, shifting from where he was sat. “You can't say this isn't off-putting for you.”

It was certainly different. The fact that she knew that something had been odd about him from the beginning, dating back from their first time together, rather than just appearing all of the sudden and shocking her, was helping her to understand it somewhat. Although the details weren't clear—nor were her thoughts as she tried to understand the science behind it—there was no denying that he was still undeniably Adrien.

With that in mind, Marinette softly pointed out, “You're still you.”

“Have you even noticed my _pupils_ yet?” he enquired, stressing the word as his hand started to shake beneath hers, a tell-tale sign of the building nerves.

She wasn't soothing him, that was what was running through her mind. The acceptance wasn't enough for him, nor was being close and trying to convey with her body language that she wasn't uncomfortable with the abnormality that had become known. Marinette was unsure on what to do—she couldn't just kiss him, as it would've only been counterproductive and could've been taken as offensive, and all she could think with a quickly beating heart was that the twist of his frown was due to her.

So, she blurted out in a slightly higher-pitched voice than normal, “I'm really ticklish when you kiss my neck.”

The incredulous expression that appeared on his face almost made her laugh.

”...Okay?” Adrien murmured, looking at her strangely.

“You—” Marinette started, clearing her throat as warmth blossomed upon her cheeks from a mixture of nerves and shyness. “You accept me for who I am, so why wouldn't I do the same for you?”

He swallowed audibly. “That's not the same thing.”

“It is!” she insisted, squeezing his hand to emphasise her point as she looked up at him imploringly. “You stay with me despite how I'm quick to make assumptions, you let me rant when I'm—I'm annoyed, and you help me realise when I'm being an idiot without judging me. I love you, Adrien, so why would I leave you because of this?”

There was a moment of silence where they only stared at each other. Marinette watched in unrestrained shock as he blinked deliberately slow, and when his eyes were opened once more, the sclera had returned to the normal state that she was used to them being; there was no bleed over from the irides, and the pupils were reacting to the light in the room normally, no longer resembling a feline's.

It was gone in an instant—a blink was all it took for them to return to how they were for the majority of the time.

He was staring at her in shock, too, and it was only when he spoke that she realised why.

“You love me?” he questioned quietly, voice barely audible from the softness of it.

“Well, yeah,” Marinette replied, smile reaching her eyes. “Isn't it obvious?”

Adrien ran a hand through his blond tresses, colour appearing in his cheeks as he responded, “I didn't really think about it, I guess. I was more focused on enjoying our time together before something happened.”

She understood the hint immediately, and that was what made her facial features contort in muted horror. “When I saw your eyes, you mean.”

He didn't shy away when he admitted, “Yes.”

“You—you thought I'd just leave you?”

“It happens to my kind,” Adrien said non-nonchalantly with a half-hearted shrug, as though he was talking about the weather. “I wouldn't have faulted you for it—I still won't if you want to walk away now.”

The thought had her eyes becoming itchy and warm, and she blinked furiously to will away the tears, not wanting them to drip and reveal the already conflicting emotions within her. To see how Adrien was willing to let her drop their relationship within a beat, to offer her a chance to walk away without feeling guilty, only made her feel worse about the whole situation. If—if she wouldn't have looked up, hadn't reacted to the shock of seeing the green, then he wouldn't have been put in that situation.

But that just opened up more questions.

“What—” Marinette interrupted herself with a sharp intake of breath, mortified as she tried to stop herself from sobbing. “What if we'd been together for longer than four months before I found out?”

The smile he showed her seemed self-deprecating and didn't reach his eyes. “I'd still understand.”

“I don't understand,” she started hotly, vision starting to blur from the collecting liquid. “I'm not—I'm not leaving you because of this, why would I? It's not something dangerous, is it?”

As a humourless laugh escaped him, her hand tightened around his; she squeezed his fingers, confusion and the want to understand clear on her expression as she watched the way he was reacting. The way he was trying to push her to the side, to keep her away from him due to the assumption that it was something about him that was unlovable—it was all so unbelievable, but it was happening in front of her eyes.

She'd only been oblivious to it, that was all. Adrien had always been the way he was.

She breathed out in frustration. “Why aren't you talking to me?”

The only sound she could hear from the silence was the nervous fluttering of her heart.

Adrien lowly replied, “I'm trying to understand why you're still here.”

Usually, she would've replied that it was her home, but that wasn't suitable at that moment. “I'm here because I love you, remember?” the dark-haired female answered instead, soft and self-conscious all at once. “Do you—do you _want_ me to leave?”

“No,” he denied, looking at her with an indescribable emotion. “I don't.”

“Talk to me, then,” she murmured, pleading. “Help me to understand instead of expecting me to push you away.”

As he removed his hand from hers, Marinette feared rejection at first, until she noticed the way he was breathing in slowly. “Let's get dressed first, okay?” Adrien started, voice cracking towards the end. “This isn't a conversation we should have like this. I'll—I'll go make some coffee or something.”

She wanted to say that he didn't need to leave, but as he stood up and started hastily putting on his clothing, she assumed that he was stalling to have some time alone, to make himself feel comfortable rather than pressured again. So, she allowed him to do as he pleased, simply staying perched on the edge of the mattress as he fiddled with his hair, not bothering with his socks before he crossed the room, only stopping at the frame of the door to look back at her.

He looked conflicted as he whispered, “I'm sorry.”

There was a lump in her throat as she swallowed, watching him walk away.

Marinette hastily wiped at her eyes, annoyed at herself for the tears that had gathered, only just grateful that she hadn't had to excuse her for tissues. She tried to come to her own conclusions, each more far-fetched than the one before, giving him the needed time that he wanted alone first. Dressing slowly, even brushing her hair and sitting down at her desk, Marinette pulled at the roots of her hair in muted frustration, trying not to groan too loudly, worried that he might overhear and come to the wrong conclusions—which was exactly what she was attempting to do by herself.

It wasn't right to theorise.

She did take the time to put on her socks, unlike him.

Walking slowly into the kitchen, she found him on her living room's sofa, two steaming mugs on the coffee table in front of him, the scent filling out the room and making it seem inviting. If it wasn't for the slump of his body, the way he was hiding his face in his hand and covering his expression, she would've thought that it was, too.

Marinette purposely sat close to him, making it so their legs brushed as she reached forward and collected the mug, cradling it with both hands and pressing it to her chest for the warmth.

“Can you do it on command?” she asked, starting off lightly, as though they were talking about what they were going to watch together.

To his credit, he didn't jump. “Yes,” Adrien replied, not moving from where he was slumped against the arm of the sofa, hiding his face as his blond tresses weren't brushed away, and his open palm was obstructing his features. It caused his syllables to sound muffled. “It just—it's hard to control it, at times.”

“When you're intimate,” she concluded, nodding to herself, wondering whether it would be offensive to jot down notes to remember the details later.

Her eyes were already feeling heavy from how close she'd come to crying earlier, and the late hour wasn't doing her any favours. Adrien probably didn't have the same problem, as he was only able to sleep for a few hours—

The grip she had on the handle of the mug tightened as she quietly enquired, “This has something to do with your sleeping pattern, doesn't it?”

The reply she received was as close to a confirmation as she was going to get. “You're good at this,” the blond remarked, voice muffled by his hand.

“You're not giving me much to work with, so I'm having to make guesses,” Marinette defended herself weakly, not sure whether the warmth of the mug was covering the clamminess of her hands or not. As she tucked her legs beneath her, trying to become more comfortable than the position she'd been in, she pointed out quietly, “You said your kind earlier—you made a clear distinction between us.”

“I did, yes,” he mumbled.

It was hard to swallow. “Are you trying to tell me you're not human?”

Adrien's answer was low, sounding as though he needed to clear his throat, “If I say yes, are you going to run away?”

“No, I'm not,” Marinette replied with determination, willing him to understand from her tone that she was being serious. “If you were dangerous to me, you could've already hurt those times I found you in the alley—it was late at night and we were alone, so don't try and convince me you're a monster from here on out.”

For a moment, she wondered whether she'd said too much.

“Is it that obvious that I don't like what I am?” Adrien wondered aloud, turning so only the side of his head was resting in his hand, contemplative expression clear to see as he looked at her for the first time since she'd came outside of the bedroom.

She took a sip from the mug. “Considering the whole self-loathing thing you've got going on right now? Absolutely.”

He snorted.

“Am I supposed to be making wild guesses here?” Marinette questioned, keeping her tone light. “You can't just drop a bomb like this on me and leave me wondering.”

With a sigh, the blond-haired male murmured, “I can't believe you're still here.”

“It is my apartment,” she quipped, not able to hold the comment back a second time. As she saw the slight curl to his lips, indicating that he'd found her childish response amusing, she considered it a win. “I probably would've ran away back in the beginning, before I fell in love with you.”

He exhaled slowly, audibly. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Stop stalling,” she chastised, moving her foot to hit his leg lightly before she huddled up again, glaring at him half-heartedly.

“Okay.” Adrien ran a hand through his messy hair, then fiddled with the sleeves of his shirt—a clear sign that he was nervous, worried, and self-conscious. “I-I'm an incubus?” It came out sounding like a question, and he licked at his lips before continuing, “It means that I—my kind feeds off of sexual energy, I guess.”

She inhaled sharply. “Feeds.”

“I don't steal it from you or anything,” he pointed out quickly, shaking his head and causing the strands of his hair to fall out of place even further. “I'm sure you've noticed how I'm—I get hyperactive after we've done anything, right? Even holding hands?”

Stumped for words, Marinette could only quietly ask, “Why?”

“It's hard to explain properly, but,” he trailed off, clearing his throat. “After you have caffeine, you get—it's like a boost? It can't replace food or sleep, but it reduces how much I need to rest. It also makes me happier, if that's the right word for it. It's just—it's essentially a natural pick-me-up for my kind, one that makes daily life easier by having access to it.”

It explained a lot of things that were different about him. The rambling after sex, the early mornings when they'd been together, and how happy he seemed with simple interactions between them; why he'd closed himself off from having feelings involved with such actions, as he'd been scared of revealing the tell-tale signs of his kind to others.

Yet, all that came out was, “But holding hands isn't sexual.”

“It's not,” he confirmed, mouth opening with no words coming out a few times as he tried to grasp the right ones. Adrien released a frustrated noise as he ran a hand through his hair again, visibly gripping at the roots for a moment before his face brightened up. “It only works if it's not platonic, if there's some sort of consent to it.”

“Consent,” Marinette murmured, latching onto the word. “There's—there's myths about your kind, right? I've never heard about consent being a part of it.”

The smile he gave her didn't reach his eyes. “That's why they're called myths, Marinette. They're not real.”

She licked her lips. “Oh.”

“If it's non-consensual, it doesn't work,” the blond elaborated, finding it easier to explain once he'd started to talk, as he was no longer waiting for her to leave (at least, from what she could tell). “There's kind of this—this rush when the feeling's returned, and that's not present unless both of the participants are interested.”

“So, what?” Marinette started, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. “With a kiss you're able to tell if someone's interested?”

The sudden look of embarrassment that appeared as he shifted was all the answer that she needed, but he still stuttered out, “Well, yes, but holding hands works fine, too.”

“That's why you asked to kiss me, isn't it?” she concluded, curiosity clear in her tone. There wasn't a feeling of resentment from having the explanation—Marinette hadn't accepted it back then, after all. “When I gave you a ride home.”

“Pretty much.” From the colouring of his cheeks, and the way his eyes had flickered away to look down at her mug, it was easy to tell that he wasn't proud of it. “I'm sorry if this changes anything.”

Taking a deliberate sip of her drink to stall, all Marinette could think was that it was awful that he felt the need to apologise for what he was. It wasn't well known, nor could she type it onto a search bar on the internet and find out correct information for what he was, but it shouldn't have been the potential breaking point of their relationship due to the sudden honesty.

After her mouth was no longer dry, the dark-haired female tentatively said, “Why would it?”

She couldn't help staring at his sclera as his eyes returned to hers. “I was only interested in your body?”

“So?” she questioned, raising her eyebrows in a silent challenge. “I was very much interested in yours, too. Does that mean I'm a bad person?”

An exasperated sigh escaped him. “Marinette—”

“No,” she cut him off, shaking her head for a moment. “We had casual sex a few times before we started dating—all of which I consented to, remember? You know that you didn't force yourself on me more than I do, so what's the problem?”

“You're impossible,” he grumbled, frustration clear as he rested his chin on his palm again, arm propped up on the edge of the sofa. “I— _fine_. Okay, let's say you're completely fine with all of this—no matter how ridiculous that thought is—what would you like to know?”

Despite how he was having trouble believing, Marinette perked up at that. “I can ask anything?”

“Yes, sure,” Adrien agreed with a sigh, closing his eyes, as though he was expecting her to disappear as soon as his vision had faded to darkness. “Anything you want, Marinette.”

“Okay,” she agreed, reaching out with her warm hand to hold his that had been left in his lap, lips curling into a small smile when he jumped from the contact. It was her reassurance that she wasn't leaving for him, a silent reminder that she was staying. “This is why you had trouble connecting feelings and sex before, right?”

A low breath escaped him, and it caused the hairs by his hand to move. “Before you, yes. I never expected to meet someone that would want to be with me fully, so I kept to flings every few weeks to try and keep myself energetic.”

Well, it clearly didn't work if Alya knew him for years for being late, not even able to take the opening shift at work, as he never arrived in time to prepare before customers arrived. It made sense why he appeared at the nightclub every now and then, with Nino's job being the perfect excuse to spend time with friends and socialise with strangers at the same time.

“So, when you were crying—”

A humourless laugh sounded. “It was more from disappointment than heartbreak.”

“That's good, then, since you'd only met them that night,” Marinette replied easily, accepting the information that was given so freely, not taking it for granted. She knew that if they parted ways from her pushing him away, he would've been hurt further and probably wouldn't have been able to open up to anyone else, let alone her again. “You don't take anything from me, right?”

“No,” Adrien confirmed, still with his eyes closed as he rested against his hand. “It's—I just benefit from your pleasure. I don't sap your life energy and slowly kill you, nor do I make it so you desire only me; that nonsense can stay with the rest of the myths.”

She squeezed her hand, threading her fingers through his casually. “I'm not really seeing the downside of being with you.”

“My eyes reflect light when they transform—like a cat's.”

“That explains the shape of your pupil,” she mused, not missing a beat. Marinette started to ramble, trying to grasp at words to make him feel comfortable and finding herself getting carried away by blurting out, “Does that mean your vision changes, too? I think that could be pretty handy—I mean, it would really be like you're a cat, right? With the whole eye appearance thing and the reflecting, that sounds _really_ feline—”

As a hand landed on her shoulder gently, she didn't jump; rather, Marinette closed her mouth and ceased the endless string of her thoughts, looking at him in surprise as Adrien smiled the same curve that she'd become accustomed to. There was no dread or terrified edge to his expression—the blond-haired male had an expression of fond exasperation, one that appeared whenever she went on a rant, not considering what she was saying before it escaped her lips.

She beamed right back. “Hi.”

“Hello,” he murmured, sounding close to laughter. “Are you okay?”

“Just dandy,” she announced, cheeks colouring from her word choice as a chuckle escaped him.

It was a good sign, though. Adrien hadn't pulled away from holding her hand, and he was no longer avoiding her gaze; he was looking at her as he'd done before she'd ruined their intimate moment, as though nothing had happened between them.

She wetted her lips. “I have a question.”

“You have a lot of questions,” he pointed out, adjusting how he was sitting so he could look at her in a comfortable position, abandoning resting against the arm of the sofa. “Go ahead, then.”

“Your parents,” Marinette started, cutting herself off for a moment. “Are they—are they like _you_?”

He shook his head, the hand that had been on her shoulder fiddling with the bottom of his shirt. “Not the both of them, no,” Adrien began, a half-hearted smile tugging on his lips. “My mother is, though. She's the female version of what I am; a succubus. The only difference is in the name, really, it's silly.”

“Shouldn't that make you only half?” she questioned, surprised by the offered information.

They hadn't focused on each other's families much; Adrien had already met hers, and there hadn't been a dinner together for him to meet the two of them again as her boyfriend, and he'd explained that his mother was off living abroad, somewhere not easy to visit.

“It's a mutation that appears after puberty,” he explained, starting to gesture with his free hand, a sign that he was no longer uncomfortable. “There's no half—you're either human, or you turn into one of my kind between the ages of seventeen and eighteen. It hit me a few months before I turned nineteen.”

That meant that he'd lived with it for five years. “It sounds like a big change to your lifestyle.”

“Yes.” He shrugged. “I didn't even realise until I woke up feeling really tired, no matter what I did—my mother realised the signs, so she sat me down and explained it all. I didn't believe her until she showed me her eyes.”

It was fortunate that he had her, though. When Marinette voiced that opinion, the blond-haired male agreed before revealing that his father had left after finding out about his mother, and that was why he'd closed himself off from potential relationships in the future. He'd dreaded the thought of the same happening to him, so he'd stuck to casual relationships since.

Leaning against his shoulder, Marinette pointed out softly, “You asked me on a date, though.”

“I did,” Adrien confirmed, pressing a kiss onto the top of her head. “You were just... Marinette, you treated me so normally. You found me crying but instead of treating me like an idiot, you were nice—you still _are_. You could've walked away at any moment, but you became my friend instead.”

“Well, yeah,” she replied, suddenly bashful. “You kind of are an idiot, but I like that about you.”

The laugh that escaped him was breathy and honest. “You're unbelievable.”

Lifting up their intertwined hands, Marinette asked, “What is this telling you right now?”

“That neither of us is aroused,” he responded without missing a beat.

She grinned. “So, you're like a lie detector, but for lust.”

-x-

Adrien wasn't as awkward as she'd expected after that. At first, he adamantly kept his eyes closed as he'd done in the past, and their conversations were around the usual subjects. It only changed when she purposely reached over and clasped his hand with a lopsided grin, raising her eyebrows when he whipped his head around to stare at her with widened eyes.

“Oh,” he breathed, clearly taken aback.

Although he didn't show her the changed sclera and pupils of his eyes that night, she considered it a small victory that he didn't flinch away from the subtle mention of his nature. Adrien didn't protest as they made their way to the bedroom, nor did he shy away when Marinette sleepily mumbled that he didn't have to stay in bed to keep her company after they were finished.

Breakfast was made for her the next morning.

“I'm fine to sleep at the same time as you,” Adrien said suddenly halfway through their meal.

It was amazing that she didn't choke on her mouthful. Marinette managed to audibly swallow and nod her head, silently urging for him to continue.

He did after taking a sip of his drink. “I—I don't want to mess up my sleeping routine by napping during the day instead. I wouldn't be able to, like you did.”

“I wouldn't recommend it,” Marinette replied, wrinkling her facial features in disapproval. “It sucked.”

“I'm glad you're not doing that any more, then,” he remarked, smile reaching his eyes.

Beaming back at him, she replied, “And I'm glad you're not keeping your reputation as Blondie going.”

When he started to choke while trying to laugh—the sounds coming out as a painful wheeze—Marinette promptly hit him on the back to try and relieve his predicament, though she was trying to hold back laughter from herself. After he'd recovered, he looked at her with wet eyes and reddened cheeks, the curve of his lips pulled down into a disapproving frown that was only ruined when they twitched, the sign of him clearly trying not to smile back at her.

They continued as they always did; spending time at each other's homes, sometimes meeting up during their lunch break to eat together, and just going about their lives without disturbance. The two of them became a normal sight to see together when they met up with friends, and their relationship was common knowledge before long. There were a few comments, some asking her how she'd managed to tie him down to a relationship, and all Marinette could do was shrug her shoulders and say that she didn't do anything—because she _didn't_ , and it wasn't right to assume that she'd ensnared him in some way.

One night, when she'd dropped her keys and had had trouble finding them, Marinette had asked whether his changed eyes allowed him to see better in the darkness, as she'd been rambling about back when she'd first found out. Adrien hadn't given her a straight answer, but the keys that were dropped in her hand seemed like a good enough answer.

She wasn't scared of him—she had no reason to be, and he slowly started to realise that. From the soft touches of her holding his hand whenever she wanted to be intimate, to grinning after a kiss from knowing that he'd understood her desire within it, and the casual remarks that she made, Marinette did her best to convey that she was happy with him, and not leaving any time soon.

After six months months of dating, around the time Marinette's lease needed to be renewed, she proposed the idea of moving in together. Adrien had been wary at first, unsure whether to accept or not, and she'd nodded along as he told her his worries. It was only when she didn't flinch when she woke up, bleary-eyed, to see his slitted pupils staring her way that he accepted.

She'd hit him for pulling that, though. If she'd screamed or pulled away—anything other than the stretch and yawn that she'd reacted with—it would've been from the surprise, not from terror.

It took a few months to find a home that met both of their standards; they wanted one within distance of his café, to be near to her parents' home, too, and to be large enough to have a spare bedroom if guests stayed over (something neither of their previous homes had).

When they were happy with their selection and started collecting the boxes from the back of their cars, Marinette turned to him and asked, “What was the dreaded water pick-up line? I've still never heard it.”

He snorted. “Can't we leave the past behind us?”

“No, I'm still really curious,” the dark-haired female denied, grinning widely at his visible reluctance. “I even resisted searching for it online, as it would've ruined the surprise.”

The hair pushed away from his forehead revealed the damp skin. “You're not letting this go, are you?”

With a laugh, she replied, “I'm really not.”

“Fine.” He huffed, lifting a heavy box up as he started to walk towards the entrance. “If you like water—”

Marinette interjected with, “I do.”

Somehow, he didn't lose his footing as laughter escaped him, the sound higher-pitched than normal. “You're not supposed to reply to it yet!”

She had the decency to look sheepish. “I'm not very experienced with pick-up lines, okay.”

“I can tell,” Adrien commented, a fond tone to his voice. “It's just—if you like water, then you already like a large percent of me.”

As he started to walk away, the tops of his ears coloured red as he refused to turn around and face her, she called out, “But I love all of you!”


End file.
